


Who Is Mysterion?

by Townycod13



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, M/M, Might get angsty, Plotty, Shifting perspectives, Short Chapters, slowbuild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-03-17 07:32:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 23,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13654377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13
Summary: Kenny wouldn't really know how to answer that question either.





	1. Chapter 1

His entire body thrummed with energy.

He tried, fruitlessly, to ease the tension crawling through his veins. Drain away the spasms in his fingers.

It should be a simple thing. Sleep. He'd heard that some people managed it as soon as their head hit the pillow. Maybe that was his problem, no pillow to hit.

Hit.

He ground his teeth audibly. The nervous throb of inaction flared and he felt flesh under his fingers.

It was a good thing he was known for dressing rather conservatively. He didn't want to explain the red lines of ripped skin running from his shoulder to chest. Sure, a sexual innuendo would do, but he still didn't want to deal with it at all.

His fingers balled into fists to avoid a repeat performance.

Promises are strange things. Some people hold them sacred, some people disregard them as meaningless. Some people give them away thoughtlessly. Some people are hesitant to even grant an assurance.

Kenny was the sort that kept his promises. At least the ones he meant.

There were only three people on this planet that he knew doubtlessly that he would always keep his word to.

One

            the girl that needed his protection

Two

            the boy he wouldn't betray.

Three

            the only person that he would always have.

 

He would keep his promises.

The agony flooded his body again.

He'd promised never--

He had _promised_.

The burning sensation he was repressing almost inspired a scream. He clamped down his jaw and glared at the roof, like it would provide the answers. Like it would explain the worlds horrors to him if he just glared hard enough.

He couldn't hold it in.

He released his tense grip on sanity and hopped to his feet, only a little mournful over the lost rest. He'd run.

Running was a good outlet. A lot of people did it to deal with excess energy.

He decided against his normal bright orange and grabbed a purple hoodie that was just a touch too big and threw on some jeans.

He didn't really have any good running clothes.

It was ridiculous fucking A.M. when he left his apartment for a run. It was an entire day before he returned.

He'd broken his promise but he figured he could live with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how many chapters, this is a weird one XD  
> inspired by this amazing piece: https://giobobobo.deviantart.com/art/kenny-mccormick-339762959


	2. Chapter 2

"Did you hear?"

"Holyshit dude, they say it was one guy."

"It sounds fucking ridiculous but everyone survived."

"They found _how_ many bodies in the basement?"

Denver was abuzz with current events. College students that would normally be spending their time on anything but the news were watching and re-watching reports of the events of last night.

Professor Broflovski all but gave up on class. It was an uphill battle that he just hadn't had enough sleep to deal with. It would throw off his syllabus but he assigned the class extra reading to make up for lost time.

They were too enraptured with the news to even complain.

Kyle was pretty sure if he told them that he'd been there they would pay attention to him. On the other hand it still wouldn't get them to pay attention to Philosophy.

And he'd already spent the night explaining everything he knew to police detectives. He really didn't want to have to regale his class of 40 or so bullshit majors.

Besides, he'd have to explain _why_ he was there and honestly that part still made him a bit uncomfortable.

He was pretty sure he could win some kind of award for worst possible Tinder date gone wrong. If he _wanted_ to get kidnapped and almost murdered by a psycho cult, he would have gone on Craigslist.

Maybe he'd been a little too desperate. He wasn't even a dating site type person. Maybe he was starting to even find random fellow coworkers attractive with the long dry spell. He'd even considered asking out one of the janitors at some point. He knew for sure he could and would never tell his mother, it would prove every paranoid rant she'd had about the dangers of the internet to be entirely spot on. That and she might start an insane anti-internet dating movement that would inevitably have some horrible backlash that could destroy society. Really, it was better to keep his mom in the dark.

"Who _is_ this guy?" the students awed voice reached his ears and he couldn't help but echo the sentiment mentally.

He did find it amusing that some of the video they were watching had come from his own phone. He'd had to turn over all the footage to the cops but it looked like one of the police officers had a youtube account and decided a vigilante was a good way to get views.

Kyle didn't mind. He just tried to piece together scattered memories of the gruff out-of-breath voice that had saved his ass.

He didn't know where the guy had come from but he was sure as hell grateful.

" _Holyshit_ , was that a fucking flying roundhouse?! Who the fuck  _is_ this guy?"


	3. Chapter 3

Craig wasn’t going to cry.

He wasn’t.

It was a miracle his precious pet had lived as long as she had. She was old and it was her time.

Crying would be an over-reaction for someone at his age. It would be embarrassing and meaningless. It wouldn’t bring her back and it wouldn’t clog the hurt in his heart.

He was old enough to handle loss without becoming inconsolable. Staring at the little hat that had once adorned his precious guinea pig’s head didn’t cause his eyes to mist over.

He knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t getting out of bed today. He didn’t have work and he didn’t have any responsibilities and the outside world could kiss his ass. He'd stay in bed and read the news about some crazy vigilante and pretend that there wasn't a world outside of his room.

There was another guinea pig in a cage adjacent to his lost friend. He was comforted to know that the all the food and water was auto-distributed. He just didn’t have the heart to see the little guy.

Even though it had been purchased prior to Dot’s timely death he still felt the gross guilt in his heart that if he started to love Plaid it would be like he was replacing her.

It wasn’t fair to the creature to think like that though. It had no control over it’s life outside of the cage and it deserved Craig’s attention and love. Just… not today.

Tomorrow. He could be an awesome pet-owner starting tomorrow.

Today he would wallow in bed and lament the too empty bed. It was too big for just him. It’d been purchased with two people in mind.

Only one person remained in the lonely apartment.

One person and one guinea pig.

He thought it would feel better if it was one person and two guinea pigs but as if to spite him the universe had denied him that.

Dot was purchased in the same mind as the bed. To be shared between two.

The mist in his eyes was only his imagination. He could handle loss just fine, _damnit_.

He wasn’t lost when alone.

He wasn’t.


	4. Chapter 4

"I swear Kenny, how do you manage to get so banged up?" she was trying to sound more annoyed than she actually was. Annoyed sounded better than resigned. Resigned would be admitting she'd accepted this.

Her brother shrugged, that defenseless smile only marred by the scrape on his cheek. She slapped a hello kitty band-aid on it spitefully.

He showed no signs of providing an explanation, only laughed at her antic.

With a sigh she decided it was best to change the topic, he wouldn't talk anyway.

"Did you see the news yesterday? Someone found some crazy cult that was murdering people. Dude went ape shit on them, apparently he saved like four kidnapping victims and left before the cops got there." Karen pulled out her phone, "Hold on, there's a video."

Kenny laughed a little, weakly, "I saw the news, Karen, I think all of Colorado has with the way no one shuts up about it."

She gave him a light elbow, he winced, "I don't know, I wouldn't be surprised if you completely missed it with how much you work." she frowned, "How many jobs is it now? You're going to work yourself to death."

He groaned in a way that she knew meant to drop it. She would, but only because the long-suffering debate wasn't worth her time.

How weird of him not to care about the news though. She would think he would have called her up as soon as he'd heard, her brother always had a huge weakness for superheroes.

She decided to begin playing the video anyway, see if that got a reaction out of him. He was tense today, weirdly so, and he'd probably been mugged lately judging by his injuries. She knew he wouldn't tell her but she could still try to cheer him up.

The shaky and unfocused camera caught the image of hooded figure fucking _wrecking_ the cult, after one particularly impressive elbow and head butt combo that had the cameraman gasping, Karen spoke, " _Shit_ , every time I see it. This guy is hardcore."

Kenny chuckled, "Just looks like a violent asshole in a hoodie to me."

She closed the video and flicked his nose. "He can be both, can't he?" 

He didn't argue so she entered stage two of plan: cheer up the grump. Netflix, snacks, and lots of jeering was definitely the way to go. She hoped at least.


	5. Chapter 5

"That guy is _not_ a hero." Eric Cartman's nose crinkled in distaste at he glared at the images, " _Real_ heroes have costumes."

Butters put down his phone in disappointment, "Well, gosh, Eric, I just thought you'd find it interesting is all. No need to get all short with me."

There was a pregnant pause between the two before either one caved. Fights like this were more frequent lately. Eric gave in first, "Goddamnit Butters, I'm not mad at you for showing it to me, I just personally think the guys an over-rated hack."

Some cheer returned to the blonds face and the tension dissipated. They could do this, meet each other halfway, and hopefully make this work.

They both really wanted to make it work.

Sometimes the strain was a bit much though.

Butters' phone peeped with Twitter alerting him to some new trend. Eric's did as well. It was a welcome distraction from the gaps they couldn’t quite fill and both of them reached for their respective phones without hesitation.

"Golly, Eric, he did it again." Butters wondered about the hashtag, "Why do you suppose they're calling him 'Mysterion' now?"

Eric shrugged, intent on reading the article on his phone, "Maybe it's the M on his shirt."

Butters eyes widened, "They got more footage?"

"Yeah, apparently he did a drug bust. Someone caught the whole thing. God, this guy _has_ to be compensating for something."

Butters laugh was barely there, "Yeah."

That was the best they could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying out daily updates for this lol


	6. Chapter 6

His shoulder ached but it was impossible to say that it was a bad feeling, Swing forward, all his weight into one crushing blow.

Spin, crouch, and propel his elbow.

It felt like singing. When was the last time he had sung? He couldn’t say. He was a performer at heart, maybe. The world felt as though there were music notes to hit.

Hit.

The _crunch_ of bones broken under the pressure of his strength reverberated through his body but he didn’t pause to enjoy it. There was someone else that got lucky with a blow to his gut.

Even through the blinding breathlessness that momentarily overtook him, he couldn’t resist a grin as he pushed into the fist, manic and ecstatic.

Suddenly the blow wasn't so lucky. His full attention resulted in a push kick to the kneecaps.

The involuntary shiver of contentment in response to the broken _crack_ was only disrupted by the next fix.

It was probably a shame that some of the targets were scattering in response. Others didn’t get up after enough of their bones refused to support their weight.

He felt a laugh bubble up but he knew would have to stay inside.

There was no point in targeting the fallen or running. Moving and breathing targets. His eyes sparkled with a childlike joy he hadn’t felt in _ages_.

And another one came his way, it was a _rush_. He allowed for the desperate man to get a scrape in before he brought him down.

Somewhere his mind breathed, _don’t forget_.

One,

            The girl he’d once betrayed.

Two,

            The boy he’d failed to protect.

Three,

            The only person he couldn’t get rid of.

By morning a news report would read about a fallen prostitution ring. Highlights on the amount of underage women that had been coerced into working as call girls.

In the morning he might hate himself.

Tonight, he gripped one of the less than innocent bastards by the hair and smashed his fucking face through the wall.


	7. Chapter 7

The moment when the world alters slightly.

The careful observer can miss it. Space and time are always fluctuating with strange new patterns that can’t be predicted or observed.

The casual observer can catch it by pure coincidence. An unfocused gaze at the right moment in the right direction can see what shouldn’t be observable.

David Rodriguez didn’t know about any of this. He usually left theories about philosophy and physics to his friends. His passion was the justice system and he had no reason to care about how reality might shift or adjust to make room for the strange. He was due back in court within thirty minutes, he just wanted to have a peaceful lunch and daydream a bit.

It was entirely without his consent that he saw the car disappear into thin air.

He didn’t even react to what he saw at first. It was too absurd and out of the ordinary. It had to have been a trick of his eyes.

His eyes weren’t known to be liars though.

Not a soul on the street responded to the disappearance. It couldn’t be possible that he was the only one that noticed in the busy downtown streets?

He tried, without much success, to convince himself that it was his imagination.

It was an unlucky thing for David. Once a crack in reality has been spotted, the eyes grow more accustomed to finding them. In itself that would normally not cause too much alarm, a mirage or miscounted stair here and there, but the current shattering reality in Denver was broken glass that would be impossible to avoid.

Might drive a person mad.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the fantastic panaceaa! Thank you so much :D

Teaching was one of those professions that was fulfilling in a choice few ways. Students are normally pissed off at you over deadlines and a curriculum that you actually have very miniscule control over. There is literally never enough paper or ink, and you have to live with the guilt of knowing that millions of trees that have died only to be used by students who, for the most part, are ungrateful brats.  And of course, sleeping regular hours becomes at best a privilege and at worst a myth in the face of mountains of ungraded tests.   
  
It probably didn’t help Wendy that she prided herself in her work, maybe a little too much. Always aiming to prepare her students the best she absolutely could. That meant extra hours spent preparing extra materials, helping students during office hours, and stressing out over whether or not little Jack or Jill really grasped the material.   
  
It was a stressful life.   
  
One would think that University students were a step up. One would be tremendously mistaken.   
  
For the professor who cared, it was a restless life with little to no time for a personal life. Wendy took whatever fun she could get. .   
  
This was why, even though both she and her coworker were in strong opposition of objectification- something to do with the stress of midterms, and also possibly had a little to do with the sixth student that had come to complain to her about the tragically unfair expectations of having to actually  _ study _ the material covered in class for the test- that they were playing a game of ‘Would or Wouldn’t Tap That’.   
  
Students were of course off the table. Aside from the clear moral issues, neither Kyle or herself saw any attractiveness in eighteen year olds who thought they were hot-shit because daddy bought them a nice car for the grandiose task of completing high-school. Nor did they find the twenty-somethings any better, the ones who thought they were most definitely smarter than the instructor because they had taken some 101 level classes that apparently equated to a fucking doctorate.    
  
…Wendy might have some pent up aggression against the student body.   
  
Of course, on a college campus there were more than just students that milled about. There were teachers, and staff members, and office clerks, and custodians, and librarians, and the list went on and on. Currently Kyle was resting his cheek on his palm while looking critically at the history professor probably twice his age.   
  
“I mean… he’s not bad looking for his age…”   
  
Wendy shook her head, “Divorced twice, remember? Probably shit in bed.”   
  
“Ah,” Kyle nodded with agreement.   
  
This was sad.   
  
They’d run out of available younger staff members pretty early in the game and now it was just a game of exactly how low were their standards at this point.   
  
Wendy sighed and reached out to pat her partner-in-crime on the shoulder, “Hey, at least there’s always ‘hot janitor’.”   
  
Kyle nodded again, some despair in his face, “There is always hot janitor.”   
  
Neither of them had had the courage to talk to hot janitor yet. It wasn't known whether or not the guy was single. They both felt too bad over ogling the poor guy to feel comfortable greeting him either. He was just one of the custodians that sometimes mopped the floors outside of their classes or took out the trash.   
  
Hot janitor was probably somewhere in their age range, but he didn't look dumb like most people in their early-twenties did, and if he was pushing forty he looked fantastic for his age.   
  
“…We really need to get back into the dating scene.” Wendy said finally. “This is honestly pathetic.”   
  
Kyle dropped his head into his arms, defeated. “But we hate dating.”   
  
It was true. The last time Wendy had tried dating she had lasted a week before the clingy asshole drove her over the edge. Sure, she loved attention, but only on her own terms. If she said she was busy grading papers and to stop fucking texting her, she fucking meant it.   
  
The trouble was most people had no patience for dating at their age. They wanted the immediate gratification of someone’s complete attention.   
  
Actually, it had been like that in high school too. Wendy wondered, not for the first time, if she should just give up and accept that she was going to die alone.   
  
It was an absolute shame that neither herself or Kyle felt any attraction for one another, they had similar priorities in a relationship and it would have been a smart fit.   
  
Kyle had pointed out that they might actually kill each other though. Given that they both had tempers that couldn’t be restrained.   
  
The Kyle-shaped pile of self-pity finally spoke up again, “Should I just try asking out hot janitor?”   
  
She shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you want to explain to him why we call him hot janitor when you inevitably fuck up and call him that, instead of whatever his name is?”   
  
Kyle’s entire frame shuddered at the thought and he resumed pouting into his arms in lieu of an answer.   
  
Being a single teacher sucked, Wendy decided.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful and kind panaceaa!! <3 You're a life-saver dude :D

The vigilante thing was probably getting out of hand. Clyde closed his Twitter app and put away his phone. He was normally a sucker for gossip of any kind but his preference was definitely in the range of harmless celebrity nonsense.

His preference for gossip certainly did not include the increasing tensions and political debates between two arguably similar trending hashtags. #whoismysterion was mostly dedicated to those in support of the badass who apparently gave no fucks about the law and beat the shit out of bad guys. #unmaskmysterion was a series of increasingly agitated tweets about what a hack this would-be hero was.

Clyde honestly didn’t have an opinion either way. He just wanted Twitter to go back to the fun waste of time it once was for him. He didn’t want to read long and detailed debates about the pros and cons of having a vigilante running about.

Initially, like most people, he’d thought the guy was pretty cool. That hadn’t really changed but the over-saturation of people both loving and hating the guy was enough to make anyone want to throw their hands up and declare: ‘None of this is actually  _ that _ interesting, okay? It’s not sports or celebrities or fashion, it’s just some guy who kicks ass! End of story!’

Or maybe that was just Clyde.

Either way not having Twitter at his disposal made waiting for his perpetually late friend a bit more agitating.

As if sensing that Clyde’s normal patient nonchalance was reaching its limit, the café doors opened and a flash of dark hair with a familiar smile provided him with some relief.

“Sorry I’m late,” David said as he approached. “Boss man wanted me to take on another pro bono case and the meeting ran late.”

“Okay... but just saying, we’re meeting closer to your work than mine and you’re still late dude.” Clyde groused, still holding onto a bit of his displeasure. “What gives?” 

David ran a hand through his hair as he sat down, frowning in a way that made Clyde second-guess his ire.

“I don’t know, man. It’s been a bit weird lately.”

Clyde was immediately concerned and he felt like a jerk for pouting. It had been only a few minutes, and David did look a bit haggard. “Weird?” he asked.

David never got the chance to answer. 

The café wasn't all that popular and it was rarely crowded, yet without any warning David was suddenly looking around in panic. “Where did everyone go?!”

His friend’s panic only served to increase Clyde’s concern and he bit his bottom lip to avoid speaking. 

“Everyone who?” he eventually asked as tentatively as possible, a bit nervous to hear the answer.

David stared at him for a few moments before he shook his head, looking down at his coffee despondently.

Funny, Clyde didn’t remember him ordering. Oh well, he must have just missed it.

With an unusual amount of tact, Clyde decided that it was probably a good time to change the topic. Hopefully it would distract them both from the fact that his friend was apparently literally losing his mind from all of the stress.

“So, have you heard of this Mysterion guy?”

Well... it might be a trending topic he was sick of, but at least it was a topic  _ everyone _ had an opinion on. So, it was at least pretty much guaranteed to attract David’s attention.

Clyde decided that he was a very good friend to be willing to take one for the team like this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are a bit busier than normal at work so i may have to slow down updates for this one a lil. I still wanna aim for once a day but it might end up being more like once every other day or less >x>;;;; sorry for the trouble


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by panaceaa! <3<3<3

"Kyle, I am asking you as your friend, do  _ not _ tag me in any more of your #whoismysterion tweets. I'm seriously sick of hearing about the guy."

Stan knew that it was a lost cause, Kyle seemed to think this whole thing was just too cool and whatever Kyle thought was cool he inevitably wanted to share with his best friend.

It still couldn't hurt to try though.

Kyle nodded noncommittally, eyes riveted on his phone, "Yeah, sure Stan."

Yeah, that was definitely the answer Kyle gave when he had zero intentions of listening. Stan pinched his nose in frustration.

"Why are you so interested in this guy anyway? You never struck me as the type to care about vigilantes." Stan wanted to add that the guy seemed dangerous too. Sure, he only targeted bad guys and he did save people, but at the end of the day it was still just some guy in a hoodie that was looking for anyone that was socially acceptable to beat up.

Kyle didn't  _ usually _ side with the type.

Kyle looked up from his phone finally, biting his lip as if he was considering whether or not to share pertinent information, "I kind of... met him."

That got Stan's attention, "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah... remember when I said I was  _ never _ using Tinder again?" Kyle began.

"Wait, Mysterion was your Tinder date?!"

That got a laugh and Stan relaxed a bit, "No, one of the crazy cult members was."

Well, there went any semblance of calm he had just gained. Stan recalled the news reporting about how the kidnap victims were usually lured there under the pretense of dating. "You got kidnapped by a crazy cult and didn't tell me?!"

His friend at least had the sense to look sheepish. "Sorry… I just... I didn't really want to tell anyone, you know? It's kind of embarrassing."

Somewhere was the unspoken agitation that Kyle had for online dating in general. Stan vaguely recalled a rant about how he felt like a desperate loser for having to resort to apps.

Rather reluctantly, Stan decided to forgive his silence on the matter.

"You're okay though, right? They didn't get to you or anything?" The rumor mill had provided all sorts of explanations as to what the cult did to their victims. All of them varying levels of terrible.

Kyle nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'd barely even started to come to when suddenly some guy literally kicked down the door."

"Damn, that's one hell of an entrance."

“Right? Everything was a bit foggy in the beginning, but I remember that Mysterion just walked right in and started demanding answers. At first I don’t think he noticed us, we were tied up in the corner, after all.” Kyle shrugged, “But once he did look over, the other guy he’d been arguing with pulled out a knife, and then, well you probably know the rest. That’s when most of the recordings start.”

Stan's brow knitted, "It’s weird that they weren’t worried about you guys using your phones and calling the cops.”"

"The police said they had some kind of signal blocker or someshit? I didn't really get it." Kyle shrugged.

"Wow... okay. I guess I can  _ kinda _ understand why you like the guy. I at least like him a lot more now that I know the dude saved my best friends life." Stan thought a moment, "Wait, so did you see what he looks like?"

Kyle shook his head, "Not really. Just... I remember his voice when he was untying us. He kept asking if we were okay. It was just so  _ gentle _ sounding. I mean, we'd just watched him kick all kinds of ass and then he's asking us if we're okay... it was weird” Kyle offered a small shrug and smiled, “But I think that may be why I like him even though he's so violent. At least to me, it feels as if he really does care about protecting people."


	11. Chapter 11

_ One _

_The little girl that shouldn’t be forgotten._

There is a delicious sort of crunching sound that occurs when a spirit breaks. He couldn’t get enough of it. Somewhere beyond the whimpers of pain and the snapping of bones, there was that amazing sound that filled him to the brim with joy.

_ Two _

_The little boy that broke inside._

He counted steps. A rhythm. The metronome was his heartbeat, the music was the cracking of bones, and the lyrics were their screams. He loved it. He longed to open his mouth and join in, but he remained silent.

_ Three _

_The person he hated the most._

He had to remember.

_ Three people. _

He had to stop.

_ Three people. _

Something is wrong.

He smiled into the dance. Thoughts fading away to the beat.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Panaceaa! thank you!! :D

He couldn’t possibly be the only person in this stupid city to see this trash for what he truly was.

Logically speaking he wasn’t, plenty of other people had raised their voices in protest to the excessively violent asshole. It was just ridiculous to him that anyone would actually  _ agree _ with the maniac.

And he  _ wasn’t _ obsessed, damnit. No matter how many disapproving looks Butters sent his way, he wouldn’t be stopped from showing the world how  _ wrong _ they all were. All he had to do was unmask the asshole and everyone would realize how fucking deluded they’d been to have faith in some low-life.

People could love a mystery. People couldn’t love other people. Eric knew this.

“Love didn’t exist. He knew this, always knew this. The movies, his friend’s parents’ relationships, all were lies. Even Butters… Even Butters would leave him if he could.

Fear was probably the only thing keeping him around.” 

So, this is why he knew that as soon as the scum beneath the mask was revealed, the very people who once worshipped him like a hero would begin to pick away at his every flaw. Before long, he would inevitably become the object of public disdain and disappointment.

And the cherry on top would be seeing that stupid punk getting thrown in jail for his crimes.

The only trouble was, despite the over-abundance of footage, there still wasn’t a clear shot of his face. Mysterion, or whoever that asshole was, was exceptionally lucky.

Eric was smarter than some punk in a hoodie though. He could find other ways.

He would find other ways.

Heroes weren’t real. No one was coming to save you when shit hit the fan and there was no such thing as love.

Eric knew this as well as he’d memorized the scars on his body.

“Eric, are you sure you don’t want dinner? I made us some Chicken Parm…”

“Goddammit, Butters. I already told you, I’m not hungry. Eat it yourself, I’m  _ busy _ .” 

He would get to the bottom of this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa! <3

So, as far as part-time jobs went, working at a pet-shop wouldn’t have been Kenny’s ideal choice. He’d had far too many animal related deaths in his time to ever truly find any comfort from the fluffy monsters that were supposedly adorable.

Even bunnies were a menace at times. He eyed the floppy eared monster in its cage. Oh, he knew, given the chance the charming little critter would happily rip out his throat.

But despite his less than pleasant view of the shop, it offered flexible hours and therefore happened to fit in quite nicely with his other part-time work. And all he had to do was greet the occasional customer, clock out on time, and make sure that the little nightmares remained safely locked away in their cages. It was a sweet gig, even if the owner had a serious drinking problem that would probably lead to the place closing down sooner rather than later.

But Kenny wasn’t really too worried about that. He’d just supplement his paycheck here for awhile, and then when the cops finally closed in Kenny would very clearly establish his innocence and absolute ignorance of any disorderly conduct the creepy-ass owner had been up to.  

“How long are you planning on ignoring me?”

He would get away scot-free, while the creep that owned the place along with all his furry monsters would be exactly where they all belonged: behind bars. 

“Seriously, Kenny. You’re acting like a child.”

“Shhhh,” Kenny shushed, not taking his eyes off of the caged rabbit a few feet away. “If I don’t stare down Mr. Fuzzles over there, who knows what kind of chaos he might wreak against the innocent citizens of Denver?” he added a dramatic flare to his voice that would have gotten a laugh from anyone else.

Kevin, predictably, was no fun. Not even a smile. Urgh.

“Kenny, I’m sure the citizens of Denver can handle whatever the fuck ‘Mr. Fuzzles’ can dish out. Now stop being a dick and answer my question.”

“I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to.” Kenny grumbled childishly.

“No, you don’t. But I also don’t have to keep my mouth shut.”

It was an empty threat, both of them knew it. No McCormick would ever expose another McCormick’s less than law-abiding nature. Still, Kenny finally looked away from his thankless job of scaring demon animals into submission, “Fine, yes, it’s me. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“I want you to stop being a fucking idiot or at least wear a damn mask. It’s pure fucking luck that someone hasn’t already gotten a clean shot of your face.”

Kenny considered this and nodded. It was a reasonable request after all.

“How did you figure me out anyway? Karen didn’t even notice.”

“Well, Karen’s never seen you do shit like that before.” Kevin reminded, “I have.”

“I’ve never done shit like this before though,” Kenny protested.

“No, not exactly like this, but you’ve had moments.”

Moments he regretted. Moments he’d prefer not to remember. Moments that reminded him why he should have kept his promise.

He exhaled deeply, the air feeling too heavy for a regular breath, “Are you going to tell Karen?”

Kevin face was a myriad of complicated emotions. “No,” he said eventually. “Just... be careful, Kenny.”

That was the best he could do. They had a rule not to interfere in the others life. It was unspoken but if either broke it, it would mark the end of their relationship. One might not be able to choose their family, but one could sure as fuck choose to never interact with them again.

At this point, there was too much baggage between the two of them for even a single blunder.

Kenny decided to change the topic. “How’s work treating you?”

He received a shrug in return, “Same old shit. Some asshole pops a tire, comes in screaming about how shit’s defective, ignores the fact that he ran over a damn nail.” He breathed out through his nose, “Some other bitch comes in wanting an oil change and throws a fucking  _ fit _ when we tell her how long it’s going to take.”

Kenny nodded knowingly, “I fucking hate customer service. Yesterday some weirdo wanted to return a guinea pig because- and I’m quoting him here,” Kenny raised his middle finger in demonstration. “I mean who the fuck returns a pet? And for that matter, who does it while flipping off the poor bastard working the counter?”

“What an asshole.” Kevin said.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa! <3

There was a reason Stan dealt with this stuff. There was a reason, but he didn’t have to like it.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore. Oh geez… he’s always on his darn phone trying to find more evidence about that Mysterion fella and I… I don’t know what to do. I care, you know? And I know he's had some terrible experiences, I mean golly, that's half how we met, but... I can't help but feel like I'm losing him? I don't know... I think I feel like I'm invisible, you know? That he just don't see me anymore... I start wondering these awful things like did he ever really see me? Have I been fooling myself? And know that's not fair to Eric, deciding his feelings for him like that, but I can't seem to help but wonder.”

There was a true sense of loss in that soft face. The two of them had been doing so well recently too. It was painful to watch what seemed like months of hard work go down the drain.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think of a way to say this kindly, he wasn't all that successful, “Look, Butters, we’ve talked about this, if he’s backsliding then you need to stand up for yourself.”

Butters’ fingers danced on his knee uneasily, “I don’t know, I can’t seem to get in a word. I—“ his voice broke off with a crack, “I made us dinner the other day, after work, I thought—I mean, golly, hard conversations are easier with food, right? But he just went and hollered at me for botherin’ him.”

There were levels to the pain there. Stan hoped his agitation wasn’t showing.

“Butters…” he paused, words that he wanted to say resting at the tip of his tongue. He swallowed, and chose the more difficult path; the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Are you still happy?”

Butters looked at him, seriously considering the question. Finally the man nodded, firm and resolute; Stan’s heart dropped. “I want to give him time. I know this is important to him. I don’t know why he’s so obsessed, but something’s hurting real bad in him and I ought to be there to support him through thick and thin. That's what it means to really care, you know?”

Stan knew. Stan knew that, even through a cascade of pain, how important it was to be there for those you cared about. To always be there for them, even if nothing was offered in return. 

Especially if they had nothing available to offer. 

He smiled but he knew it was wobbly, “Then that’s good enough. If it’s taking him time to work through something, maybe you should pursue your own projects for a bit? See if some space helps him see what he’s missing out on?”

Dumb jerk was definitely missing out, Stan thought bitterly.

Butters nodded thoughtfully, a small smile starting to light the shadows lining his face. It was one of his sweet smiles, full of hope, the one he always got right before he said something kind.

“I could do that,” he mused. “I’ve been thinking about getting a cat actually. I know Eric loves cats and I think a pet would give him some real nice companionship.”

He shouldn’t need companionship from a cat. Stan didn’t say it. He shouldn’t. He wanted to.

“That’s a good idea. Hell, maybe the cat will drag Cartman away from his dumb obsession. I saw a new pet store down by the Wall-Mart, did you want to take a peek in there today?”

There was a reason he would always be there for Butters. It just... wasn’t always easy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Panaceaa! :D

In the interest of kindness, ending world suffering, and peace among humankind, he restrained from cursing.

He was pretty sure if he started he wouldn't stop.

That was a bad habit of his, starting shit and then  _ not _ stopping.

That was precisely what had landed him in this impossible situation to begin with.

He couldn't just die to get out of this dumb situation either, because then that would mean he would be leaving someone to die.

Die. Kenny tried very hard to think a way out of this situation that didn't result in death. He drew a blank.

They were lucky to be alive right now. Bombs usually kill people.

A bomb threat on a college campus however, was usually just that: a threat. Kenny wouldn't have shown up at all, hadn't planned to. None of this situation matched his comfort zone. For starters he  _ worked _ here. Albeit very few people paid any attention to janitors, but throwing on a purple hoodie and jumping into the fray in the middle of the place he worked sounded like a very bad plan.

But no, he'd just  _ had _ to notice a few suspicious people heading for the English building. He'd just  _ had _ to get involved.

It wasn't like he'd actually managed to  _ help _ . Sure, he'd managed to get the students evacuated before the bomb went off but apparently he hadn't been so lucky with the staff.

And now he was stuck in a nook under a crumbling building with an unconscious professor.

"...Wha..." Scratch that, groggily waking up professor. "Mysterion? What the hell...?"

Kenny could have hit himself, he could have  _ easily _ taken off his damn hoodie and mask and then he would have just been ‘McCormick the janitor’. When, well  _ if _ they were rescued, he was now probably going to jail.

He congratulated himself on a good job of screwing up his entire shitty life.

Still, he kneeled next to the confused bomb-victim. After all, making sure the guy was okay was more important than his stupid ruined future. This guy probably had people waiting for him.

"There was an explosion. We didn't make it out of your office in time. How are you feeling? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"...You aren't holding up any fingers."

"Cool, you aren't blind."

"Glad we were able to deduce that." The man said dryly, "Is there a way out?"

Kenny shook his head, "The entire place is unstable. If I move anything, I run the risk of killing us both. I figured you wouldn't be too hot on that option."

That at least got him half a laugh, "You guessed right,” he shuffled a bit and sighed. "What are the freaking chances of this happening twice...?" It sounded like he was talking more to himself.

Kenny was mystified.

"There was another explosion on campus?"

"No, sorry, you probably don't remember me. You, uh, actually saved me once before."

Kenny wracked his brain, actually looking at the man in front of him for the first time "You were at the cult..." He said, recognition finally dawning on him.

The man nodded with an embarrassed smile, sticking out his hand, "Kyle Broflovski, apparently a danger magnet."

Kenny took the hand unthinkingly to shake it, "Kenny McCormick."

And they froze.

Cultural norms are a terrifying thing. When one has answered the question 'how are you' with 'I'm fine' unthinkingly for years upon years, often they'll respond the same way even while suffering from a gunshot wound.

The world should fear habits more.

"Did you just...?" Kyle's eyes were blown wide.

"I wasn't thinking. It was automatic." Kenny wanted to hide in a hole and die, he really wished some of the panic in his own voice was just in his head, "Can you forget? Maybe?"

"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I-I won't tell anyone." Kyle still hadn't let go of his hand, still completely flabbergasted.

Kenny just sighed, "I can't believe I just did that."

"Neither can I."

It was insane. Not even two minutes talking to a complete stranger and he’d just accidentally revealed information that could completely destroy him. From the clear disbelief on the professors face it was pretty clear the feeling was mutual. This was insane and stupid.

Soon enough the ludicrous nature of the conversation caught up with them and they had to laugh. Kyle’s was a snorting sound that evolved into a deep chuckle mixed with exclamations of disbelief. It was a nice laugh, Kenny decided. 

He figured the guy could probably be trusted. Maybe. Remembering that he really didn’t want to get rescued and then ultimately arrested in costume, he snorted out his intentions after his own giggles had died down a bit.

"Well, at least I can remove the incriminating mask and hoodie now," he said and the professor nodded with another giggle. Without much hesitation Kenny shrugged off the material. He was just getting to the mask when an overly dramatic gasp made him jump out of his skin. Kyle’s expression was teeming with shock.

"You're the hot janitor—!"

Kenny's eyebrows shot up as Kyle's hands clasped over his mouth like it had betrayed him.

"Hot janitor?" he repeated, just to be an asshole.

Kyle was looking away with an entirely red face, "We... already established that I'm not blind."

Oh. Kenny wasn’t really sure what to do with that. Was the professor flirting or trying to downplay the statement by clarifying it was a matter of fact and thereby not to be taken to heart?

Ultimately the safest move was always the most light-hearted, so Kenny just opted to be a little shit. “Wait, if I’m the hot janitor, who’s the unfortunate looking janitor?”

It probably should have taken the guy more time to answer, or maybe even to take the opportunity to deny he’d been ranking the custodians. “The balding guy that yells at everyone.”

Kenny laughed, “Garrison?”

There was a slow shrug, a bit of shame and embarrassment cropping up in his expression. “It’s not like you guys wear name tags, I don’t know his name.”

“It’s probably Garrison.“ Kenny assured, amused that apparently professors, all up on their high horses with their high degrees, had time to fucking rank the janitors. He’d honestly be offended if he didn’t find it so funny.

“Sorry,” Kyle said, shifting his legs to his chest. “I know its a shitty thing to do. I know I wouldn't want to be ranked somewhere on a list dedicated to objectifying teachers.”

A laugh bubbled in his chest, “Dude, you probably totally are though.”

His brows instantly knit together and he gave Kenny a confused look, “I am?”

“Dude, you work here and you don’t know that the students literally rank fucking everything?” His voice might have been a touch too incredulous because some offense was beginning to blossom on the freckled face of the professor. “I don’t pay much attention to it, but I’ve heard kids talking about online lists and shit. I think the last thing I heard was a prof version of Fuck-Marry-Kill.”

Kyle’s face twisted into displeasure, “I  _ really _ don’t want to know that. Considering how much they bitch at me about papers I’m pretty positive where I would rank.”

“Tough luck dude, if it makes you feel better I’d put you in one of the two earlier categories.”

Kenny had meant for the comment to be a light-hearted assurance to stroke the guys ego. Add some levity. The guy was clearly a bit too high-strung and needed a laugh.

He wasn’t quite expecting a bit of pink to build onto the guys face as he attempted to laugh awkwardly, “G-good to know you’re not out to kill me, I guess.” He said lamely.

And Kenny thought  _ he _ was shit at taking compliments. Clearly this guy was in need of more positive attention if being told he wasn’t murder-able was a blush worthy comment.

Or maybe Kenny just had a much higher bar for what should fluster a person. That was entirely possible too.

Before he could really decide where to go from there and break the awkward air that had descended, there was a rumbling sound from above.

Fuck it all to heck. He’d completely forgotten that they were sort of in a life or death situation.

He needed better object permanence or some shit. Maybe he had ADD? He was distracted easily enough.

Whatever internal debates he had were interrupted by the further shifting of rubble. There was the sound of people in the distance and Kenny figured it had to be rescue workers.

“Hey Prof, can you whistle?”

A spot of confusion marred his face as he nodded, “Why?”

“Because yelling makes you lose your voice. Start whistling, we have to let the rescue workers know where we are.”

Kyle nodded with understanding crossing his features and began to whistle, Kenny debated joining him, but thought better of it. What good was classical opera training if he never used it?

The whistling stopped when he began. He wasn’t looking at Kyle but he assumed surprise was the reason. He continued.

Voices drew closer.

Rubble moved.

Shit, rubble moved the wrong way. Kenny dove down and shielded the startled professor with his body.

The pain took his breath away and he knew from experience that the piercing pain in his stomach was his kidney getting punctured.

“Oh my god!”

He barely understood the man beneath him, but he was at least happy to know that his sacrifice had at least saved the guy.

There were voices from above.

“You bastards killed Kenny!”

From then on, the feel of blood draining and his consciousness receding was the last thing he was able to understand.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by Panaceaa!

David had officially had it _up to_ _here_ with this shit.

He was almost ready to admit to actually having lost his mind. If everyone in the world around him saw something different than he did, it only made sense that  _ he _ was the crazy one.

The trouble was that he was absolutely sure that he wasn’t insane. He could admit a lot of things aloud that he didn’t believe but never would he allow his inner thoughts to reflect lies.

He decided to start taking notes of the discrepancies as they appeared. Starting from the disappearing car and ending at his latest debacle: his friends confused mental state.

Yesterday he’d received a call about a near death experience and a guy that had actually  _ died _ in the process. Kyle was distraught. He kept mentioning the new vigilante for some reason, and was experiencing more than a little survivors guilt since this ‘Kenny’ had died protecting him.

Today when he’d done a follow up phone call to see how Kyle was holding up, he was met with confusion.

“I mean yeah, I got stuck under some rubble for a few hours but that was all. I’m more worried about the fuss my mom is kicking up because the school ‘allowed’ the bomb threat get out of hand.” The long suffering sigh that accompanied the statement far too familiar. From what David knew about Kyle’s mom, she was a force to be avoided at all costs.

As frustrating as it was to hear Kyle ask him what the fuck he was talking about, a statement that David was growing  _ increasingly _ agitated with hearing from people, this  _ did _ in fact provide David with a unique opportunity that none of the other situations had.

He’d seen people, cars, and even locations shift or disappear entirely. Thing is, he had no way of knowing if they were actually disappearing from reality, or were simply changing location. Or, of course, if he was just crazy.

This time he had a name and a profession. Kenny the custodian.

If Kenny existed at all, considering Kyle had denied having any knowledge of a Kenny, then it could work as evidence that he wasn’t utterly fucking bonkers. And honestly? David  _ really _ needed that at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my upload sched is gonna be a bit sporadic for a bit longer, sorry for the trouble


	17. Chapter 17

Something must be wrong with him. Craig wondered if maybe the loss of Dot had just been one of too many bad things that had happened in the span of a year.

He just couldn’t love Plaid.

He couldn’t return Plaid either because the fucker at the goddamn pet store had told him to shove the poor creature somewhere unmentionable if he wanted to get rid of it.

What a fucking asshole.

It was too cruel to confine Plaid to a loveless pet owner and guinea pig relationship. He knew he had to find a home that would appreciate the little dude. Craigslist was a bad idea, would probably end up with the poor creature in the very same place the cashier had offered to shove him.

Craig didn’t think he was the overly emotional sort. He kept his shit together and responded to stimulus as necessary. Most things shouldn’t warrant an extreme emotional response.

He left extreme emotional responses up to Clyde. Now  _ there _ was someone that could get hyped up over almost anything.

Currently the man was up in arms about dramatic hashtags ruining his twitter experience. It would be funny as hell if it wasn’t so sad.

Craig still listened to his friend and coworker patiently though. Sometimes it was important to just listen to people and let them talk it out.

He tried not to think about how and why he’d learned that. It was counter-productive.

“All I’m saying is that the entire thing is dumb! You either support the dumb vigilante or you don’t, there’s no reason to attack people over the internet about it.” Clyde huffed, arms crossing.

“Hn.” Craig nodded, half agreeing and half genuinely not caring. Crime fighters and criminals had so little to do with his day-to-day life he couldn’t feel any connection to the issue.

His life consisted of hair cutting, styling, dying, and coordinating outfits. Spending time with fluffy creatures and showering them with love and affection. Cuddling with a nervous and kind ma—

His life consisted of working and owning a pet. Period.

Clyde wasn’t done with his outrage, he latched onto the distraction readily, “They probably don’t have a life outside of their dumb twitter wars.”

That earned him a laugh and some of Clyde’s tension dissipated, “Ugh… I’m sorry man, I know I’ve been going off on this for like forever. I guess it really just rubbed me the wrong way.”

Craig shrugged, “It’s cool.”

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but have you heard from…”

“No.”

A jingle informed the two that they had a customer and the subject was lost.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa!! :D

Sometimes the world doesn’t make any goddamn sense. Every tingle and sensation, every breath and frustration become a strange reflection of a world at odds with itself. These are the times when those who are paranoid thrive.

He knew he was paranoid. He had documentation to prove it. He couldn’t consider it a bad thing though, no matter how many people tried to convince him.

Anxiety? Yes, he could place that into the bin without a single regret. Never had the twitching sensation of terror in his gut been conductive to getting results.

He wasn’t a results-oriented person. He wanted results, but coming up with simple and logical solutions had never been a strength of his. He’d learned though.

And with knowledge, tutelage, and time he’d learned that anxiety didn’t help.

On the flipside, paranoia was a good friend.

When the worst possibility was visible to the eye he could actually  _ use _ all of those sensible planning skills that had been patiently gifted to him with a loving hand.

Loneliness, he reminded himself, was not going to be a useful skill in these circumstances. Paranoia, his longtime friend, would help him stay hidden.

“Tweek Tweak? Where are you hiding?” The familiar voice sang out in such a gentle voice that a spasm within him wanted to call out as if in a game of Marco Polo. 

The memory of the mangled bodies suppressed even the shudder of terror it brought with it.

“I know you’re here, dude. Let’s have a chat.”

Paranoia and the skills he’d been taught would keep him alive.

“Oh, there you are. Don’t run away, man, I’m starting to think you don't like me.”


	19. Chapter 19

How had he not noticed the guy before?

It wasn't like the two of them were subtle. If anyone listened to them for even a moment that the topic of their conversation could easily become clear. Also, the stares really should have tipped him off.

He blamed it on the surroundings. Spending even a moment's thought on a professor in a university was a good way to give oneself a headache. It would be like counting the number of students walking by him in sweatpants--ok, perhaps not  _ that _ bad, but it was somewhere in the range of ridiculous.

Kyle Broflovski, huh.

Seemed like a totally cool guy in Kenny's book. Of course, he might be biased because the guy called him hot.

But aside from that, the entire embarrassing conversation between them was  _ much  _ less painful than it could have been. It was almost a shame that the conversation was entirely lost in the jarred memories of a death.

Kyle was funny and cute. A bit fiery and seemed trust-worthy

Although, the memory of his embarrassing identity reveal was more than enough to fence off the half-hearted desire for the scene to still exist in Kyle's mind.

Speaking of the man in question... he was still tossing him glances while having lunch with a coworker. The female professor was significantly less subtle with her looks. Probably didn't care if she was caught.

Maybe he should make conversation with the two of them. He had a break coming up, and there was room at the bench they resided on with their lunches. He could be casual about it, mayb--

"Kenny McCormick?"

Kenny jumped about a foot in the air, eyes locking on the surprisingly sneaky dude, "Who the fuck wants to know?"

Kenny wasn't really known for being polite to people that scared the shit out of him.

He might have regretted it a little bit though. Whoever this guy was, he looked anxious as hell. Scared even.

"I'm... my name is David Rodriguez. I'm sorry for scaring you. I know this is out of nowhere, but I was wondering if you could spare me some of your time."

He could feel eyes boring into the back of his head. Probably Kyle or the mystery coworker.

Kenny deliberated. On one hand, he did have a break coming up and ideas of reacquainting himself with the cute professor. On the other... Who the fuck was this guy? Why did he know his name? Why was the dude so nervous? How the fuck did he know how to find him? And what  _ the ever-loving-fuck _ did this guy want?

...Curiosity won out.

"Sure, wanna grab a coffee?" Kenny gestured to the student invested hive of a drink establishment behind him.

David looked a bit taken aback of the change in tone but didn't question it. Kenny shrugged and shoved the rag he'd been using to wipe tables into his back pocket.

"So, David," Kenny began casually, the guy was well dressed, and definitely didn't look like he belonged on the campus with that suit. "What brings you to seek out my company and- just a small detail, how the  _ fuck _ did you know my name?"

There wasn't much of a line for coffee, Kenny debated making this guy pay while the college girl in front of him rattled off a complex order of fancy milks and no-sugar but yes-caramel.

David squirmed uncomfortably, "It's... a bit complicated."

"Complicated?" Kenny let the guy think over his response while ordering his no-frills black coffee. He had the feeling he'd need it for this conversation.

Some guy comes onto campus wearing a suit that was  _ well _ outside of the average price-range around here, knows his name, and looks nervous enough to give his old pal Tweek a run for his money. This ought to be headache inducing.

Hm... how  _ was _ Tweek doing? It'd been ages since they last hung out.

David had them sit as far away from the chattering masses as possible but Kenny didn’t really see the point.

College kids could overhear you planning to overthrow a foreign government and would still proceed with their day as if nothing was wrong. Case and point, it'd been barely a week since the literal explosion on campus and no one even looked distressed.

Aside from the normal stress of a student that is.

Kids bounce back fast, Kenny could admire that.

"--some questions."

Oh, shit, David was talking.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I was hoping if it would be alright with you if I asked some questions."

"Sure, shoot away, dude."

The casually inviting tone Kenny used had no effect on the man’s discomfort. "...Some of this might sound a little crazy. Just... please answer me as honestly as you can."

This guy was definitely a weirdo. Kenny shrugged, "Strange is my middle name, man. Now seriously get on with it, I don't have a very long break."

"Do you, um, do you know a Kyle Broflovski?"

Hold the phone.

Kenny almost spat up his precious caffeine. It was only the knowledge that it had cost him hard-earned bucks that kept the bitter liquid inside.

Some tension actually  _ left _ David at his reaction.

"Why the fuck would you ask?"

"Please, just answer."

It was tempting to lie.  _ Very _ tempting. He could probably even cover up for his extreme reaction to the name with his skills at spinning the truth.

The imploring desperation in the man’s face was a bit much to lie to though. Kenny decided to be as vague as possible with the truth.

"He's one of the prof's that was sitting out there, isn't he?"

David blinked, turning in his chair to look out of a window. "Kyle's out there? I didn't even see him..."

So, the two of them were friends. There was no faking the familiarity of the tone. Why the hell would one of Kyle's friends be seeking him out when Kyle didn't even remember  _ meeting _ hi--

The information clicked into place and Kenny's eyes narrowed. Whoever this guy was, he'd gotten info from Kyle that  _ hadn't _ been forgotten. Did Kyle tell him about his identity? He'd  _ thought _ Kyle seemed trustable enough... but really, they'd only known each other for less than an hour.

How to play this? Kenny tried to think tactically past the hallelujah chorus of ' _ shit _ ' cascading through his brain.

"What did the prof tell you about me then?" Kenny defaulted to smarmy, wagging his eyebrows suggestively, "Was it about our little  _ encounter _ ?"

For the first time in the conversation, David looked uncomfortable. And without the peels of anxiety jittering him, it actually seemed to ground the man and made him look a bit more formidable. "Uh... no. He just... he mentioned you two were in the explosion together."

"Oh ho?" Kenny could play this, be the douchebag, "Did he mention what we  _ did _ ?"

"No. He said you died."

It was said so simply.

All plans of turning Kyle's accusations on his identity into some lame costume sex-scene were entirely drowned out by the crescendo of  _ shit _ .

David was looking straight at him like he held the answer to a mystery.

He remembered?

Did  _ Kyle _ remember?

No, he didn't. Kenny had checked. Greeted the guy and was met with genuine confusion. Was Kyle a better actor than Kenny gave him credit for?

How did  _ this _ guy remember?

It didn't matter if the information came secondhand.  _ Everyone _ forgot. That was the rule of his life.

It didn't matter if his own family was staring at his  _ fucking tombstone. _ If he was currently alive, then no one remembered it being there.

Creeped him out sometimes that he had multiple tombstones due to this loophole. At least he could smash the urns after he came back from cremation.

Wait, that wasn't important right now.

Who the  _ hell _ is David Rodriguez and how the  _ fuck _ does he remember?!

"You remember..." To his absolute shock the breathless whisper actually came from Rodriguez. How dare this guy take the words right out of his frozen brain?

Also, how far gone was he that his expression managed to betray him?

Kenny took a less than calming breath and put down his coffee. "What  _ exactly _ did Kyle Broflovski tell you? Answer me now or I'm kicking your ass."

There was a real threat in his voice.

David's face was still a picture of relief, but he did seem to understand. "He called me after the accident. Said that he'd been stuck under the rubble with 'Kenny McCormick' who was a 'hot janitor working at his school’, then he went on for a while about singing. But then after that I couldn’t really understand much because he got really emotional. He said that 'Kenny' died protecting him under the rubble when the rescuers fucked up."

There was no mention of Mysterion. Kenny wondered if it even would have mattered if some random asshole named David Rodriguez knew— _ knew _ .

"He told you I was dead. Why would you seek me out?"

"Because the news that night said there was one casualty and by the time I'd woken up the next day it was a report about how 'miraculously everyone survived thanks to the vigilante's intervention and quick evacuation of students'. I call up Kyle and he has no fucking idea who I'm talking about." David glared at the coffee cup sitting in his hands, "I just... I needed to know if I was going crazy."

"What would you do if I didn't remember?" The plan certainly had some holes and David's desperation didn't match a one-time event. Something bigger was going on here.

He shook his head with a bitter laugh, "Honestly? It's almost enough that you're  _ real _ . That was my original plan; if you existed then the conversation I had with Kyle  _ had _ to have happened."

Pretty solid logic, Kenny could agree. "But then you went and got ambitious after you'd confirmed my existence, and decided you had to come and talk to me even though you'd clearly sound like a total psycho,” he deducted. 

David's laugh was weak, "It's, uh... been a long few weeks."

Kenny's gut was rarely wrong, there was  _ definitely _ more to this story, but his break was ending...

Was there any purpose in staying involved? Sure, the guy remembered hearing about his death secondhand, but he had not even a shred of evidence. He clearly knew how insane he sounded from his earlier nerves.

Kenny could tell him off and never hear heads or tails from him again.

However, the old juvenile desire to be remembered... for someone to  _ know, _ tugged at his sensibilities. That being said, whatever loophole that had allowed this complete stranger to remember could influence his life in other ways if he wasn't careful.

He'd have to at least investigate this thoroughly.

This would be a decision he would inevitably regret. Despite that knowledge he pulled out his phone, "Gimme your number, we'll talk when I get off work."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Panaceaa

once upon a time

_ “I was cleaning up the streets!” _

Disgusting. Unforgivable. The chill crawled across his skin. Cold. The world was cold and terrible. He could be cold and terrible, too.

_ “This shit is not fucking helping! You put him in the hospital!” _

_ “He was a punkass loser, the dredge of humanity! Who gives a fuck?!” a scoff, “He was peddling drugs, I thought you hated that shit?” _

_ “He’s my  _ brother _! I give a fuck!” _

It shouldn’t be like this.

_ “You’re a hypocrite!” the face was distorted with rage, “You’re just as much scum as he is if you don’t understand why this is so important!” _

He was so angry. It curled and crawled and consumed. How could he fight anger like that? Who could fight anger like that? The sort that pinched every nerve and sent common sense on a road-trip, the sort that dredged up the very worst limits of a soul…

He  _ couldn’t _ . He  _ wouldn’t _ .

His fist moved and his mind stopped.

There would be two immobile bodies in the hospital.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Panaceaa

There was something so meditative about taking the time to wash your hands. He hummed a tune as he worked. First, soap. Generous amounts so that it spread evenly over his palms, between his fingers, under his fingernails, up his arm just a bit.

It was best to get as much of the available area squeaky clean. He switched tunes as he used his elbow to turn on the faucet. Step two was a nice and meticulous rinse. Let the pleasantly warm water wash away the discolored tarnish from his skin.

It was always a joy to have the time to enjoy moments like this. He took as much time as possible ensuring that all that was left was pink flesh. He enjoyed watching all the red circle the drain as it diluted with the water.

It was the small things.

He hummed. 

That really enabled him to enjoy his day.

The muffled scream behind him was enough indication that his next friend was ready for his attention.

He  _ loved _ paying attention to his friends. Remembering every squirm, every whimper, every trail of blood, every blossoming bruise.

Everyone was his friend. He’d never met a person that didn’t fit his criteria for the word.

He stepped delicately over the prone body of his last friend to get to the horror filled eyes of his new one. He would remember. He would always grant them that.

It was so very important to remember friends. Forgetting them would be the epitome of rude. He was nothing if not a well-mannered youth.

“Now, now,” his lips curled as the color drained from the struggling boys face, “No need to make all that noise. You have all my attention now.”

He spoke affectionately. Softly. It was the affection that one should really give their friends.

“I do have a question before we get to know each other better. If you promise to tell me nicely, then we can all have  _ fun _ . Don’t you want to have fun?”

The gag didn’t enable much expression but the tied figure nodded hurriedly, eager to agree with any madness in order to potentially have some leniency. His eyes darted to the deformed corpse on the ground with the bile that threatened to suffocate him behind the gag if he didn’t swallow.

“Good!” There was no small amount of cheer in the voice as he went to remove the gag, “Tell me, where did our good friend Tweek Tweak disappear to? I  _ do  _ miss him.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa! ALSO PLZ READ HER STUFF! she just posted two one shots and they're both amazeballs!!! 13/10 would recommend<3<3<3

In the defense of recapping information, there are times when the human mind truly can’t comprehend a situation or the provided knowledge. Occasions when the armor and shields of day to day life, also known as common sense, offer none of their normal protection.

Sitting in a stranger’s room with facts that would have been difficult for even the most naïve of people to buy into was one such moment.

“You’re immortal.”

“Correct.”

“And no one ever remembers your deaths, regardless of the extent to which they witnessed or the amount of evidence?”

“Again, accurate.”

“But for whatever reason I remember, despite all odds.”

“Hey, I don’t even know what the odds on this are. I mean maybe you’re a psychic or someshit, who knows?”

David leaned back in his chair, eyes heavenward in what was probably an attempt to make sense of the situation. Kenny debated how much he really should have told the guy.

“That's… a lot to take in. I probably wouldn't believe you at all if this didn’t happen to be my only proof that I’m not losing my freaking mind.” His hands did the merciful thing and blocked light from entering his eyes, too much stimulus was not what he needed right now. “But hell, what do I know? Maybe you’re insane too. Maybe we’re both going fucking crazy together and coincidentally having the same delusions.”

“Yeah…” Kenny tried to restrain some of his disdain, he wasn't successful. “I don't know about you dude, but I’m completely positive about my condition. Little hard to imagine getting burned alive, just saying.”

David’s eyes were blown wide with horror, “That… happened? I thought you died in the rubble…”

Kenny rolled his eyes, this guy just didn't get it, “Dude, I’ve been dying on an almost weekly basis since I was a child. I’ve had it all. Name a death, just fucking name one, and I can give you a detailed report on how it feels.”

David foolishly took the challenge. He had to excuse himself to relive his dinner afterwards.

He’d said piranhas because he’d been  _ positive _ there was no chance the guy had actually experienced it. What kind of psychotic life did this janitor lead?!

Kenny looked half apologetic when he re-entered the room. The tension was thankfully dissipating a bit with time. He took a bit more time to take in the minimalistic nature of the apartment.

It wasn’t that McCormick didn’t have a lot of things. It was that the only things he did possess seemed to have clear purposes with very little room for fluff. The only exceptions were a poster on the wall for a band he didn’t recognize, a framed photo, and a portable gaming device of some kind. David strained to remember the last time he’d had time for videogames. It was a while ago.

Kenny McCormick, immortal custodian, lived a minimalistic life. David wondered what kind of life he would lead if he were immortal.

Not that he would ever want to be Kenny’s kind of immortal. The detailed description of being eaten alive was too visceral and made his skin crawl just to  _ hear _ about. If it was in fact the truth, how the hell had this guy avoided losing his mind for so long? David felt like he was losing it just seeing things.

“Sorry about that,” Kenny was a bit sheepish looking, “It’s a bit of a sore spot with me and I might have gone overboard.”

David shook his head, “I asked.”

Kenny nodded and David wondered how much of the apology was sincere and how much of it was for the purpose of making peace.

It didn’t matter.

“So,” Kenny began, “You said you’ve been seeing other things recently? Other than miraculously remembering my passing?”

David wasn’t sure he wanted to share. As much as Kenny was primed to believe the unbelievable he was still acutely aware of how insane the whole thing made him sound..

Kenny had shared though. More than either of them wished he had.

“It’s… sort of small things?” he struggled a bit to find the correct words, “Sometimes it will be déjà vu, except it will literally be a scene in my life repeating, or sometimes I’ll see a person just disappear like they were never there to begin with. A few times I’ve seen people appear out of nowhere. No one notices. They don’t notice. It feels like…”

He chanced a look at Kenny’s face and was genuinely shocked to see the guy looked serious and intent, hanging onto his words like this was a problem he intended to solve. God knows how he could or would but it was such a resolved expression that it caused him to pause, just a moment.

“Feels like?” Kenny prompted, voice somehow taking on a lower pitch as if the severity of the situation deserved it.

David felt a bit more courage to continue, “Like the world is colliding with another one. Or maybe that reality is having a seizure? I really don’t understand it.” He let his hands fall helplessly, “Everything  _ feels _ real. The reality where you’re dead feels just as real as the one where you passed away. Or that drug ring last week? I had never heard of them before that Mysterion guy took them down but at the same time they had apparently been in the news for months? Or some guy will be walking towards me but a moment later he’s on the other side of the street.”

“Everything is real but what is real keeps changing.” Kenny surmised, looking thoughtful.

David snapped his fingers, “Yeah, it’s like that.”

Kenny hummed, balancing a pencil between his fingers. David wasn’t quite sure how long the guy had been taking notes. It was probably another reality jump. Either that or he was officially too freaked out to notice obvious minor details.

“Do you think you could start listing out the reality seizures as they happen? It’s a long shot but if we can determine a pattern we might be able to figure out what’s causing this.”

As though he hadn’t quite found his breath before, David exhaled. Somewhere in his mind despite assurances and all the madness the ‘hot janitor’ had spelled out for him he hadn’t expected to be taken seriously. It was such an intense relief to hear a rational beginning to a solution.

Maybe they wouldn’t find out what was happening. Maybe he’d be stuck with these insane jumps for the rest of his life.

He had a start.

That was what he needed.

“I can do that.” he confirmed.

Kenny gave him an assuring smile.

“I have to know though, is it true you sang opera or was that Kyle’s trauma speaking?”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa!

“And then he just started singing opera? Are you for real?”

“Hey, I did preface this by saying it was a weird dream, didn’t I?”

Wendy shrugged, taking a generous slurp of her orange juice. She’d been on a health kick lately. “Fair enough. But, really? Trapped under rubble with hot janitor while he sang opera to you? I think you might seriously need to get laid at this point. Or at least ask out hot janitor.”

“ _ No,  _ thank you.” Kyle shuddered at the memory of his last disastrous dating attempt. He hadn’t even told her the really bizarre parts of the dream.

“So, was he good?”

“Hm?” Was he good? What was she asking about? Wendy gave him a look as if it should have been obvious. 

“The janitor? Was his singing good?”

“Upsettingly so!” Kyle gushed, hands flailing briefly in frustration, “He sounded like a pro!”

Wendy was giving him one of her knowing little smiles but he wasn’t going to engage. So maybe dreaming about the hot janitor being an amazing singer was a bit telling. People had weird dreams all the time. They didn’t  _ mean _ anything.

“I wonder if he’s a good singer in real life…” Wendy pondered. “You should really just ask him out and figure out for the both of us.”

“Oh my god, Wendy, I’ve never said more than two words to the guy! It would be totally weird to just go up to him and be like, oh hey, wanna go to karaoke or something because I have this nagging feeling that you have an amazing voice?’”

He realized his mistake too late.

She smiled mischievously, “Kinky.”

“Wendy.”

“Oh, come on, Kyle. You left it  _ way _ open. I had to take it. I’m serious though you should ask him out. I’m kind of dying to know now.”

“Well, if it’s that important why don’t you ask him out?” He didn’t mean it, even after speaking he wanted to take it back. He was actually developing something of a crush on a guy he’d never even spoken to. Why was he such an emotionally stunted brat?

“Because  _ you _ are the one having wholesome dreams about his voice.” Thank god Wendy didn’t take him up on the challenge. At least one of them needed to be mature.

Kyle sighed hopelessly, “I still wouldn’t even know how to begin talking to him. How the hell do people even do this dating thing? It’s insane. I hate it. How do you talk to a stranger with the intent of starting a meaningful relationship?”

Wendy shrugged, “You’re preaching to the choir,” she said before her eyes lit up as if she just remembered something. “Oh yeah! Did you ever figure out why your lawyer friend accosted him the other day?”

He’d been trying really hard not to think about that.

“ _ No _ , David’s been stupidly busy with work lately and everytime I ask he just answers something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry, can this wait until later? A client just came in’ or ‘uh, long story, I’ll get back to you.’ Jeez, it hadn’t even been  _ weird _ until he started dodging answers and now I don’t know  _ what _ to think!”

“Do you think maybe they’re going out?” Wendy was far too invested in this potential drama. His petty side took note to act similarly the next time she had potential confusing drama surrounding her life. See how  _ she  _ liked it.

“No? Maybe? I honestly don’t remember the last person David dated but he’s kind of private about that sort of thing… which honestly makes me wonder  _ more _ . Then again, he could just be here for work? Hot Janitor could be in need of some legal representation? Or maybe he’s being sued? Ugh…” Kyle rested his head on his desk, “I really don’t want to think about it.”

Wendy patted his shoulder like the pal she wasn’t being. “If it makes you feel better, it could be both.”

“…You’re evil.”

He could hear the smile in her voice, “And?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay >x> things have been interesting of late XD;


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa :D

It wasn’t a terribly uncommon event to answer the phone only to hear the blubbering tears of his friend. Clyde was many things, a good friend, a kind person, as well as a guy who was always a bit on the petty side, but one thing he most certainly could not tack onto that list was having any semblance of control over his tear glands.

The actual severity of the situation didn’t settle in until well into the conversation because of this exact reason. Craig hadn’t even bothered trying to coax out an explanation, just let his coworker sob into the phone for the better part of 20 minutes before his sentences became even somewhat coherent.

When they were, finally, Craig realized with horror that they should have been spending this time calling the police.

“There’s a—“ his voice caught with horror as another body-jerking sob wracked through him, “— _ body _ in my living room, Craig!”

It was several hours later before either of them even had time to breathe. There was a call to a lawyer friend of Clyde’s… as to why that hadn’t that been his first phone call Craig would never fully understand. A long time with the police, and then of course the event of watching the medics haul away a mutilated corpse before there was finally something that sort of resembled calm in the room.  

“I’ll be back later to check up on you, Clyde. I just have to finish up some paperwork for you, okay?” Rodriguez assured him and it was in such a gentle tone that Craig wondered about it briefly.

Clyde’s watery nod had him back to the problem at hand and he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder to comfort him through the goodbye.

When Rodriguez left Clyde all but collapsed into a puddle of more tears. How had the body gotten into his house? Who had left it there? Why would anyone do such a thing?

Craig pet his hair as he dissolved, a motion so familiar from years of using it to comfort someone else. “Does anyone else have a key?”

He knew the police had to have asked this already and he’d thought for sure he knew the answer. Who would Clyde give a spare key to? His family lived in a different city and he didn’t have a roommate.

He felt a distinct stiffening in posture as Clyde shook his head negatively.

“Clyde.” Craig warned. He couldn’t help him if he wasn’t honest.

“…He wouldn’t do something like this.” Clyde whimpered, maybe trying to convince himself.

“Who?” Craig would be the judge of whether or not it was important.

It was a long silence before Clyde’s voice croaked up again, a raw pain still there that Craig hadn’t even been aware of.

“Kevin.”

“Oh…”

There wasn’t much more to say. Craig agreed that it was unlikely that Kevin was the culprit. He’d just always assumed that the key had been returned.

“I thought you asked him for the key back…?”

Clyde shook his head, unable to speak, and Craig decided the poor boy had been interrogated enough for one day.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure this out.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by panaceaa

Betrayal. Putting any real perspective on the word often felt impossible. The concept was well understood without much prompting but the actual cutting emotion it elicited felt a bit too deep to label so simply.

Eric knew the feeling like an old friend. An old friend that he would have only happily given an early retirement from life itself.

“Eric…”

The voice was sad, maybe even defeated, but Eric didn’t consider that important. After all, it was better to hurt now than the inevitable betrayal that was waiting at the end of every fucking relationship.

Something soft and small touched his cheek. A gasp escaped despite himself. He knew that sensation, he finally put down the internet browser he’d been using.

A soft orange paw waved at him, behind it was Butters kind smile, and some of the pain melted despite himself. He hated the side that could be melted like this. If he wasn’t hard and frigid then he was only opening himself up for pain. He  _ knew _ that and yet...

“Say hello to Ms. Donut,” Butters voice fluttered with nerves. “See, she has a little donut shaped mark on her head.”

Eric waved and held out his arms to hold the sweet creature. She was shy, but welcome in his arms.

It was too much emotion for him to deal with at the moment. He couldn’t find his words. He hadn’t held a kitten since  _ bad things had happened _ and now here was this perfect little life balanced by the kind hands of the only person he wanted to trust.

He hated that he wanted to.

“Hi, Ms. Donut…” his voice felt close to cracking. 

He reminded himself of the counting exercises.

One. Two. Three. The kitten was purring and staring at him with knowing eyes.

Four. Five. Six. Butters looked so hopeful, so kind. When was the last time he looked at that face? Really looked?

Seven. Eight. Nine. His internet browser would be there in the morning. He was close, so close, and he’d find the answers but… not now.

Ten. Count again.

He tried not to remember the days that he’d learned the ridiculous exercise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's going to be a p big change of pace soon XD this is your only warning lol


	26. Chapter 26

_ Sometimes the world seems too cruel. People are too stupid. Crime is too prevalent. _

_ Sometimes the allies’ chosen are chosen not for high moral ground but for the passion they represent. Charisma is a powerful tool that is too often used to destroy. _

_ It’s important to bite back pain or shame in the face of a bigger picture. That was what drove them. _

_ They were both stupid and young. _

_ Their values and motives didn’t align but those things seemed secondary. Irrelevant. The thought of a clash didn’t occur. _

_ Breathe in, breathe out. _

_ One. Observe the situation carefully. _

_ Two. Signal the optimal recourse. _

_ Three. Clean up this fucking miserable town. _

_ Too many had suffered at its hands. _

_ “Are you ready?” _

_ A grin, merciless. “I was born ready.” _

\--

Trust is a dangerous thing. Especially for the truly paranoid.

Trust someone and you risk losing your edge. The one thing that was keeping you alive in the cascade of terror that is living.

It’s very tempting to trust the people you love though. To come home and test that teetering emotion to its extent.

He had already seen too many times just how little love factors into trust. Far too many times. A child loves its parents, does that mean it should trust its parents?

No, he knew better than to trust.

The real troubles in life are the things you trust implicitly. That thoughtless emotion that you never put a moment’s consideration into.

It had never occurred to him that there were seemingly benign entities he should avoid trusting.

It could have been a fatal mistake. He drew his hand back just in time to avoid losing a finger, for once an involuntary jerking motion of his disobedient body working in his favor. Usually it just resulted in spilled coffee.

“G-GAH--!” his startled cry caught in his throat, he wasn’t just accompanied by one tiny creature.

There were so many little eyes.

Breathe. His heart froze. Was there a possible escape available to him?

He needed help. He needed  _ help _ . No one could be trusted. No one could be called.

He wanted to scream for help. The  _ please  _ died in his throat, the miniature creatures menaced closer, seeming to enjoy the terror they induced in their future victim.

What utter little assholes.

Was this it?

Was this really it?

“H-help…” he hated himself, it crawled out of his throat against every rebellious bone in his body.

_ Craig _ .

He wanted help. He wanted to trust. He wanted one person.

A snarl formed on his lips.

The first of what was sure to be many small attackers flung itself forward and he broke its every bone with his fist.

No.

He was  _ not _ allowing himself to cower. If he did die here, he was going to die punching the grim reaper in the dick.

“Come and g-GAH-gettityoulittle bastards!”

They descended. He was doomed. There was too many. They were too small. Bigger targets were much easier to defend against.

He should have run away the moment he’d seen one. What an idiot he was.

“Tweek? Is that you? Are you okay?!”

That was one of the last voices he ever wanted to hear.

Luckily it was accompanied by a gentle guiding hand that pulled him out of the fray, batting away little bastards. A hasty retreat into a waiting car.

Tweek would allow it. This was a bigger target. He could kick his ass in a pinch.

Once situated and away from the certain death, he glared at the driver, “What the fuck do you want, Cartman?”

\--

Oh, hamburgers.

Eric’s off in his own world again.

Ms. Donut definitely helped matters. She was a bit of a strange sort of cat, but Butters liked her and it looked like love at first sight for Eric.

They still hadn’t had that talk. He knew putting it off was silly. Why, if he were watching one of his friends be this indecisive he would have to have a strong word or two with them about how communication was to be the support structure of any good relationship.

He was usually so much better at this.

He didn’t think it would be so hard if it weren’t for the way Eric was avoiding looking at him. Then when he did look, there was something awfully hard and distrusting in his eyes.

That stung, if he were honest. And he always was pretty honest. Gosh, it was his responsibility to do his part! If he wanted Eric to open up, then he was just gonna have to do it himself!

“Eric? Do you have a minute?”

“What?!”

Snapping wasn’t a god start. Butters needed to ease those nerves if he wanted to get anywhere.

Yet…that was all he’d done for months now, wasn’t it? Just one-sidedly eased Eric’s nerves while his own frayed to bits.

That wasn’t a relationship. At least that wasn’t one that he wanted. Wasn’t the one they had agreed on.

“Now hold on just one second there, mister. You know I don’t appreciate you bein’ so aggressive with me.” Butters puffed out his chest, hoping the added height would give him more confidence and conceal how shaken he felt, “I know you’re going through an awfully hard time but I’m never going to be able understand if you don’t communicate properly with me.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand.” There was a snarl to his voice that only barely failed in its intent to conceal an underlying fearful shudder.

Butters had known him too long to fall for that bravado.

“Well, we’ll never know if we don’t try, will we?” he softened his voice for the next words, “Let me in, Eric. I want... I want to be a part of your life, not just a prop in it.”

“You’re not a prop.” He was looking down and away. Distant. Hiding behind a wall.

“Really? Then prove it. Let me in.”

It was quiet. Butters knew him well enough to know he’d need a moment to mull over the facts and make a decision. Still, having that knowledge didn’t make his palms sweat any less or his heart stop throbbing in his own ears.

He’d done it. He’d taken a stand.

This could make or break everythin—

Butters eyes widened, lunging forward and taking ahold of Ms. Donut, “Oh my goodness, Ms. Donut! You’re bleeding!”

“ _ What _ ?!” Eric also darted forward, joining him in fretting over the cat.

She hadn’t a single injury on her.

But there was definitely blood on her paws.

“Where did you step in blood?”

Butters gut churned at the thought. Ms. Donut mewled sweetly at him.

\--

“So, wanna explain why you were talking to a janitor on my campus?”

“Uh… attorney-client privilege?”

Being cornered by Kyle Broflovski is a position that no one wants to find themselves in. The man had an intensity that rippled with flames of passion on a normal day. Give him a purpose and suddenly all of that fire had a laser-point focus.

Not that David had previously been a victim of this, but he’d seen enough victims. It was a real shame that Kyle had dropped out of law, he would have made a terrifying lawyer.

“So he’s your client?”

David tried to remember he was a lawyer himself and not a witness being cross-examined. It was more challenging than he’d like to admit.  “Why do you want to know so badly? Do you know McCormick?”

Kyle flushed a bit, “I jus—what if he’s suing the university or something. That’s important information for me to know.”

There. The weakness was so glaring that David could almost laugh in victory. Kyle’s arguments were thin at best but it was his expression that was the most telling. You had to appreciate having friends with easy to read faces.

He thought back to Clyde’s puffed cheeks and felt a pang at the memory. There had been something raw in the pain that scared him a little. Clyde wasn’t okay around death.

Kyle. He was talking to Kyle right now.

“Not really? If the school is sued it’s unlikely to affect your position.”

“So the school  _ is _ getting sued! What for?” Kyle pressed.

David shook his head, “No, Kyle. McCormick isn’t suing the school.”

“Then  _ why _ were you talking to him? What, is it something you can’t tell other people about?”

“You never answered my question, why do you care?”

Kyle narrowed his gaze, David tried very hard not to feel intimidated. It was an uphill battle. “I did. And also I asked first, so stop dodging my questions!”

He’d had days, literal days, to try and think of a cover story. He hadn’t even bothered. Although, in his defense, the business with a murderer breaking into the apartment of one of his close friends and leaving a corpse on display was a  _ bit _ more pressing. Still, he wished he’d spared just a minute to think of a good excuse. He was  _ terrible _ at improvising.

“We’re…friends?” David tried.

Kyle wasn’t terribly impressed.

“If you were  _ just _ friends you could have just told me that from the beginning. Don't lie, dude, it doesn't suit you.”

Shit. Okay. He’d need something embarrassing. Something dumb. A reason he wouldn’t want to admit to talking about it. Something with just enough truth in it to sell it.

Because there was no way in  _ hell _ he was going to tell Kyle Skeptic Broflovski that reality itself was going on a lunch break and Kenny was apparently a fucking immortal.

“I—“ he thought of it, it was a long shot, “I asked him for dating help. I have, uh, feelings for this guy,” more like a crush the size of Mars, “And I kinda… met McCormick on an online forum.”

“And you met up with him in person?” Kyle’s face was crinkled in distaste, he was very much in the camp that online acquaintances should be kept online.

“I kinda figured you’d react that way.” David sighed, hoping it was convincing, “We hit it off so we decided to meet up for coffee. He has a really intense working schedule so we agreed to meet during his break at the university.”

He was really proud of himself for this lie. It was probably one of the best he’d ever come up with. His parents had raised him to be very honest (except to customers) so it was always a challenge to lie so blatantly.

There was truth there, too. Not stuff he really wanted to talk about, but truthful nonetheless.

“He has a busy work schedule?”

As much as David didn’t want to talk about his love-life or lack thereof with anyone, especially when concerning his overly passionate friend, it was a little insulting that out of all the information provided  _ that  _ was what the guy latched onto.

Oh well.

“Yeah, he works like, four jobs I think? I’m not sure exactly. There’s four he mentioned.” And it was true that meeting up with McCormick to discuss reality shifts was something of a challenge with that schedule, “He’s a busy dude.”

“Huh…” Kyle looked thoughtful and for the first time since the conversation (read: interrogation) began he wasn’t fixing David with a prying glare.

Geez, what did McCormick do to get Kyle this fascinated? Maybe a part of his subconscious remembered watching the immortal kick it and Kyle’s natural inquisitiveness was doing the rest.

Or maybe Broflovski had a crush.

David filed that away for future use, in case it was factual and could be used to his advantage. Having an advantage with Kyle was always a good thing to try for.

“So, you guys hit it off?”

Yeah. Definitely a crush. Kyle’s expression was contorted with discomfort, his not-so-subtle suggestion that McCormick and him had a thing hanging awkwardly in the air.

David decided to be blunt, “Yeah, as friends.”

“Oh,” tension in Kyle’s shoulders loosened and David had just about enough of this silliness, “That’s nice.”

“Look, dude, if you like him I can probably set you up.”

The reaction was a truly embarrassing amount of denial over something stupid from a fully-grown man and David left the conversation with a headache.

\--

Kenny has been acting strange lately.

He’ll be normal and happy and  _ Kenny _ most of the time but then sometimes…

It’s something in his eyes, a glint that isn’t natural. Karen wished she didn’t see it. Wished she didn’t fear it.

It wasn’t Kenny.

It was dangerous and strange. His voice was still light, cheerful, but a touch out-of-touch. His motions were jagged, like they were fighting against movement.

“Karen? What’s wrong?”

And there he was, her older brother, smiling at her with a sparkle of concern in those blues.

She smiled back to reassure him.

“Nothing, just… thinking too much.”

Seamlessly that darker shade of blue lightened the shade of his eyes in the most bizarre way. “Don’t think too much, you might hurt yourself.”

It was supposed to be his normal joking. A cute tease. She could return it with as much sass.

But this Kenny had a warning edge to his voice that she couldn’t describe and it terrified her.

“Right.” She laughed nervously, “I’ll try.”

Who was this person in front of her?

\--

Returning Plaid was really the only humane thing. Clyde wasn’t in a place to handle being a pet owner after everything.

Now to make sure that the darned clerk at the pet shop would just take the poor thing back. Clyde couldn’t watch it now. Craig couldn’t take care of it. And honestly he didn’t want to bother his sister with an animal that he couldn’t create an affection for.

There was something deeply troubling about the creature. It was staring at him again in the little carrier cage. It did that a lot. Pensively staring at him as if slowly making assessments about him.

He couldn’t quite think of a previous guinea pig that had stared at him like that. It perturbed him.

He figured he was just more subconscious about it because of his emotional whirlpool of late but all the same, it was not his favorite thing in the world.

Plaid had to go.

“I told you, sir, we don’t accept returns. Store policy. Why don’t you take it to an animal shelter or some shit?”

“A guinea pig.” Craig deadpanned.

The clerk shrugged, “You never know till you try. And you’ve already tried here so try  _ somewhere else _ .”

Craig really hated this guy.

“Your shop is creepy, your policies suck, and you’re a terrible person.”

“Not my shop, not my policies, and yeah, what of it?”

Clearly he wasn’t making any progress. And now all the guinea pigs in the fucking store were staring at him with that same empty stare that Plaid had.

Craig hated this store.

“I’m not keeping Plaid.”

The clerk snorted, “Who names a fucking guinea pig ‘Plaid’?|”

He flipped the bird, “Me.”

“Well, you can take ‘Plaid’ and go home, because I’m not taking the damn thing off your hands.”

Clearly neither side was bending anytime soon.

\--

The world is a strange and complicated place but some things are simple. It’s important to take advantage of the simple things.

For example, if you know who you are and, more importantly, like what you see, it’s simple and should be embraced.

From a simplistic standpoint at least.

It can be quite uncomfortable to have a shift to that though.

Normally he knew that the look of terror on his friends face would be exhilarating. Enjoyable. Name a positive adjective for sadistic pleasure at another’s expense. He sure as fuck didn’t care to list them.

The pleading, the tears, the way the man in front of him whimpered at his future prospects… it wasn’t something he’d ever felt anything but happiness for previously.

But his hand was frozen.

It was like a voice in the back of his mind was counting to three.

“Please, please god, whatever I did to upset you I swear I’ll make it up to you, god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.  _ Please _ .” The man’s voice broke.

There was the distinct feeling of gut-churning remorse that wreaked through his body at the sound.

He frowned.

He didn’t normally frown in scenes like these. He would happily lick the tears off a victims face… why was he calling  _ his good friend here _ a victim? How strange.

He felt strange today.

It would be a good idea to finish off the guy quickly and take a breather. Figure out what was going on in his own head. Why did he have such strange emotions blossoming up? Strange, so strange…

His fingers curled around his favorite knife and froze.

One, two, three. His mind counted out and he tried to understand how it could chill him to the bone like this.

Could he not kill the man before him? Troubling, deeply troubling…

He replaced the fallen gag and returned upstairs to lounge in front of the television to calm his nerves. He wasn’t used to things going wrong. He wasn’t used to being confused by his own behavior. He knew himself.

He was his only true friend after all.

\--

One,

The girl that meant the world to him.

She was the sunshine in the darkness. The hand that held him back from going too far. From falling into the depravity that could have consumed him. A kind child with a sweet smile that had always been there and needed his support and help.

_ Kill her if she’s holding you back _ .

Two,

The boy that hadn’t forgiven him.

He was there when things got hard, whether he was good or bad. He was a firm hand and a path of bad decisions. An example of everything he didn’t want to become. A strained relationship that wouldn’t snap because of the love that tied it together.

_ He’s garbage. It’d be easier silence his complaints. Suffocate the breath away _ .

Three,

His constant companion.

Through death. Through life. A friend and enemy that he faced everyday in the mirror. A man that he knew he could trust. A child he knew like the back of his hand. A human that he could control and understand when nothing made any sense anymore.

_ Do you really…? _

It wasn’t working. He was losing it.

One, two, three.

Count.

Remember.

Cling.

Why was there a promise made? It was important. Keeping promises is  _ important _ .

He stopped himself.

Inches away, millimeters away, a terrified face that couldn’t comprehend anything past the pain it was experiencing.

Any further and a life would be snuffed out.

_ What does it matter? The scumbag deserves it. _

No.

No murder.

He wouldn't be a murderer.

He never should have broken his promise. It was so important.

It was the only thing that held him together some days.

“You’re a monster!”

The voice was broken through fear and pain, Kenny felt sick at the sound.

What was he doing?

_ Putting a stop to the stupidity. _

Why was he doing this?

_ You want to. You know you want to. You feel the need crawling through your flesh, the same as me. _

Why was it harder and harder to stop himself?

_ Why would you want to stop? _

Who are you?

\--

Kyle shouldn’t have let himself be talked into this.

This was going to be absolutely terrible.

Between Wendy and David’s comments he’d come to accept that the only way to put an end to this was to accept what a terrible mess this would be.

He just needed to get rejected, clean and simple, and he would move on with his life instead of watching the man while dreaming about repeated and strange scenarios.

It wasn’t helping that the janitor had yet to notice his presence. He gulped audibly.

“Umm…” he tried, awkwardly, too quietly, “Excuse me?”

Without so much as looking up from his mopping, the janitor swept to the side effortlessly to create a clear path for walking, “Be careful, it’s wet.”

Kyle wanted to scream, just a little bit.

“Ah, no, um, do you, do you have a moment?”

Finally, the man paused and looked up, too blue eyes full of curiosity, “Sure, what’s up?”

Clearly he was busy. Why was Kyle bothering him in the middle a task? God, this was stupid, he was being stupid, he should quit right now.

He thought of Wendy’s continued teases and gathered some strength, “I was wondering if you were, I mean, if you’re not it’s okay, and please don’t feel pressured, I just—me and my colleague, no I mean, I was---so stating from the beginning I saw you with my friend David the other day—no actually, this isn’t about that, oh god, I’m ruining this, aren’t I?”

The man laughed, clear and gentle, “Well, I can’t say you’ve ruined anything considering I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re trying to say.”

Kyle ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “I—I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime, just um, like, you see—“

“Sure.”

“—because you’re kinda---wait, what?”

“Sure, coffee sounds great. I’m actually free in a few hours after my shift here, wanna go to the campus coffee shop?”

Kyle wasn’t quite sure he was hearing correctly, maybe he’d been misunderstood? “I kinda meant, like a date?”

“Sounds good to me.” The janitors smile could only be described as sunny and Kyle felt a bit faint. He’d completely done a terrible job of this and yet—

“Really? Are you sure?” Why was he asking?! Kyle cursed himself.

There was another laugh, it was a really cute sound, “Yeah, I’m sure.” He pulled out his phone, “We should probably exchange numbers though.”

“Y-yeah!” he fumbled to grab his own, heart somewhere between stuttered and racing, “Umm… what’s… what’s your name?”

This was definitely not the start he had wanted but he’d take what he could get. Something about this guy just stuck in his mind. A repeated cycle of a scene lost in time that he couldn’t quite understand.

None of that particularly mattered though, he couldn’t  _ wait _ to see the look on Wendy’s face when he told her that he’d scored a date with the hot janitor. He decided to leave his rambles out of the story.

\--

Quietly, the world spiraled out of control.

Piece by piece things changed and the world attempted to adjust for the foreign objects, misplacing and replacing at random in some desperate plea for normality.

It wasn’t working.

The center of it all, two conflicting but powerful reality altering forces.

Combined they were tearing the entire world at its seams.

Forcing a collision.

He’d just about determined the causes.

One, a reality-altering creature of nightmares.

Two, a perversion so sacrilegious it had ripped a hole in time and space.

What a fucking pain in the ass.

Kyle grabbed his phone, solving this bullshit problem was going to require a ridiculous amount of cooperation with a lot of people he’d rather push off a cliff. He was very tempted to just let the world end instead.

Pros: he didn’t have to deal with this shit.

Cons: he would have in some way have lost. An intolerable concept.

He called the first of many.

 


	27. Chapter 27

One.

It’s hard to protect what can’t be predicted.

The little girl didn’t deserve any of the trouble that cascaded down upon her. She was sweet and small and in need of help.

_“I just wanted to see where you went, it’s lonely being at home—I don’t know, I just wanted to see you.”_

_Blood. Stark red in contrast to the cool tones of the night._

_“Daddy said—“ she looked away, expression empty in that special place that allowed her to emotionlessly account the events, “—only whores go out at night and he threw a bottle at me.”_

_She looked so dizzy, so disoriented, like the world around her was swirling._

_Would she die?_

_Because he’d foolishly snuck out?_

_Because their fool of a father had passed out instead of assessing his daughters new head injury?_

_“I’m—I’m so sorry, Karen. I’m sorry._ ”

Broken and beaten, another story for the textbooks. Another forgotten tale of another forgotten child.

Did it matter where she lived or not? Ultimately none of it mattered.

Nothing matters but the feel of bones cracking and meat indenting.

Two.

Betrayal is subjective. If a person feels betrayed often that means more for the final result than whether or not it was true.

Could it be called betrayal if he didn’t snitch? In a way. Could it be called betrayal if he did? Yet again, it’s all dependent on the variable emotions involved and the values held by the individuals that are just _trying_ —

_“How could you?!” There is so much rage in that voice, so much pain, so much—_

_He felt himself shrink back at the accusation. He hadn’t meant to, he didn’t think he had, he just wanted to help—_

_“I need those drugs. You don’t understand, if I don’t have them or the money to replace them, I’m going to get killed. Why don’t you understand this?! Why are you so stupid?”_

_“I’m not stupid.”_

_He was small but he wasn’t going to back down. He wasn’t._

_Flushing them was for the best._

_“I—I’ll get the money.”_

_“How could you possibly get the money?! You’re eight!”_

_Determination curled within him as he faced his brother head on, “I’ll get the money.”_

It was so important to hold a moral standard. One that could be aspired to. One that could prove to Kevin that one could live a healthy lifestyle. That it was possible.

That the world wasn’t as cruel as it truly was.

He couldn’t---he couldn’t lose to his impulses and become what he’d fought against.

 

It could have been prevented.

Inside of the laughter that bubbled up from a world beneath the soul, a spiteful chuckle ripped his insides apart. The meaningless nature of the world wouldn’t allow for such a kind existence.

It didn’t matter.

It never had.

The blood pooling under his squirming victim did.

Three.

Again and again he felt his last breath dragged out of his body and twisting his soul and mind. Again and again the world worked to set a stage that took every fiber of his being to contain.

He couldn’t quite do it.

_The reflection of his constant companion mocked him._

_When the world ended and the sun exploded he would still have one person to know. One person he could never escape._

_The mirror shattered under the first of his collapse. His legs couldn’t support the weight beneath him._

_Not anymore._

_Not again._

_It was just a matter of time before the world twisted up his insides and left them displayed like a piece of modern art in the sun._

_Where was he? How had he been torn to bits this time._

_“How many times is this?”_

_How should he know._

_It was impossible to keep track of at some point._

_It was a weary pressure and a shard of glass allowed him a view of his own shattered face._

_“Why are you crying?”_

_It was so pointless to cry but his reflection continued to sob._

_“It won’t make the pain stop, the pain never stops.”_

_The reflections grieve morphed into a rage._

_“Why are you crying when it does_ **_nothing_ ** _?!”_

_The twisting of his own organs fighting him from within brought a new pain that threatened to leave him breathless._

_He could breathe though._

_Inevitably he would always breathe again._

_“You,” he spat, the image of his own face a picture of despair in his own eyes, “You alone—“_

_It was a promise that he couldn’t even find the words for._

_But it was a promise and one that he intended to keep._

_Ultimately humans were always alone. In his dying moments he was his only companion._

_And in a world where no one else could be trusted, that would have to be enough._

It’s a tragedy that the last betrayal occurred from within.

It was a tragedy but ultimately ridiculous. Who cared what he had promised himself or anyone else for that matter?

The feel of pain underneath his ministrations was so _good_. The sensation rippled through him and offered a sensation like no other.

Cower.

Scream.

Cry.

Beg.

 _Break_.

Promise.

A simple thing. A simple word with so much meaning.

A word that has such a variety of intensity depending on the person.

He kept his promises though.

Or at least he used to.

The cascade of waves buried him in an ocean of blurry vision.

Who was he?

Who _was_ he?

Who was smiling while they inflicted harm on others?

Who was begging for every wish and prayer he’d ever had to shatter?

Who was Mysterion?

 --

Stan stared blankly at the goldfish.

It stared back at him with an empty and soulless gaze.

Yeah, gift or no gift, he was flushing this motherfucker.

\--

Reality is a strange thing. Few people have the know-with-how to understand it.

Kyle had very little else to do with his time. When there was a problem that occurred he found the source and dissected it.

It only made sense.

That and to utterly destroy the source of the problem.

“We have to find and kill Kenny McCormick.”

Stan gasped.

Craig was less impressed, eyes a narrow skepticism.

It was Token that spoke what was clearly going through everyone’s minds, “If that was _possible_ we would have done that ages ago.”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot.” Kyle snapped, not even bothering to look at the guy he’d insulted, “I’m not talking about what’s possible or what people want to do, you assholes wanted to know how we can fix the bizarre bullshit going on and I told you. Kill McCormick.”

Red rubbed her temples impatiently, “Easier said than done. Why the fuck would killing that psycho fix shit anyway?”

There was a temptation to kick them all out of his house. In fact that was exactly what Kyle was going to do after he finished explaining what idiots they all were. It was important they understood how stupid they all were.

“Because he’s at the center of this entire ridiculous event,” Kyle gestured emphatically to the flowchart on his powerpoint presentation that explained everything in what he’d assumed was a fool proof way, “He’s always at the epicenter of all the bizarre bullshit. We usually find one of his fucking victims there too boot. And, I might add, the Tweek sightings.”

Everyone could at least agree there. The Tweek sightings were creepy. And irrefutably related to the man in question.

“Fine,” Stan agreed, “So we kill Kenny and fix the tear in reality. _How_ do we pull that off again?”

Kyle did kick the assholes out this time. Expecting him to do _everything_. Why should he care if reality was collapsing in on itself anyway? Those stupid assholes could all just die for all he cared.

\--

Kenny’s fingers danced across the table top with a tempo all of their own.

The fresh body hung from the roof like a metronome and he couldn’t help but ponder.

The death had been so unsettlingly swift. It was unusual. It just didn’t look like his own work.

If he were a detective on the case he would see mercy in it. He would persist that it was likely a copycat.

What was that niggling in the back of his mind? A demand for mercy? Of all miserable things, a prayer for justice?

Who was it that was disrupting his pace?

What an uncomfortable feeling.

Perhaps he should take a break from his adventures to arrange a playdate with dear Tweek Tweak. He might not be able to enjoy himself at this rate.

All the same, he couldn’t quite abide with Tweek running around as he did. The boy had long since stopped moving.

There shouldn’t be a breathing individual called Tweek in all of reality and yet, here he was.

How very odd and vexing.

It was a good thing though. Their last playdate had been so _brief_ but it certainly had been a memorable bit of fun. It would be such a tickle to relive it.

\--

The thing about being paranoid is it can help to avoid potentially dangerous and entirely preventable circumstances.

It can also make it nearly impossible to wrap one’s mind around the truly absurd.

Tweek didn’t know _everyone_ in the room but the individuals he did know were behaving… _strange_ would be an understatement, but then again his adrenaline addled brain struggled to come up to come with a better word.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mr. Tweak?” Leslie Meyer’s concern truly showed through, a comforting hand that she didn’t dare press onto his shoulder without direct permission hovered awkwardly.

Scott Tenerman offered a soft smile when Tweek’s disturbed vision darted towards him. Eric Cartman was serving snacks and making sure that everyone was taken care of with an attentive kindness to detail that was disorienting. An older balding man with a hand puppet was gently assuring him that he was the perfect host. A blond muscular man that introduced himself as Trent meekly was fiddling with his own hands awkwardly, a nervous tic that Tweek detested in himself.

Heidi Turner, a woman that had once told him that his ticks made him an eyesore and had quite literally spit at him, was at the other side of Leslie and looking at him with what appeared to be genuine concern.

Life was fucking wild.

Tweek wasn’t prepared for any of this bullshit.

“Whatthefuckis—GAH— happening?!” he snapped, “Why are you all so nice?!”

“I know this is confusing,” Cartman’s voice was calming, kind, Tweek felt unbalanced, “But we’re here to help. Tweek, you’re dead.”

Well, that could have been phrased with more tact.

“WHAT?!”

\--

It’s a date.

A date with the cute professor that had a sweet little awkward streak. Perhaps it wasn’t the best timing for something like this, given reality turning on it’s head and crime on the rise.

And the man that was still in the hospital after his last escapade.

He never should have broken his promise.

Still, the man had looked like he was about ready to throw himself off a cliff over that epically terrible pickup line and Kenny really didn’t have the heart to say no.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t at all interested.

He wondered how much of this had to do with the reality shifts David was talking about. It wasn’t really a normal occurrence in Kenny’s life to get asked out.

Especially not by adorable philosophy professors.

He could handle this reality though. It was a nice change of pace from a constant struggle to survive.

Maybe this would be good for him. This _would_ be good for him.

Maybe it would help him get back to his promise.

\--

On occasion there are mysteries that crop up that arguably do not deserve the title. So simple and ridiculously transparent as to be laughable.

It was a trap.

Kenny was okay with that though.

Traps were amusing. Somehow the word ‘invulnerable’ didn’t seem to reach enough vocabularies in this day and age. How tragically foolish.

Traps were utterly useless and one had to question the sense in even bothering with one.

It was cute though. He’d thought the Broflovski boy had long since given up his acquaintance after the instance with Ike.

Poor kid didn’t quite figure out how to play tag. Not in time at least.

Well, as they say, he was in a better place now.

Or Kenny assumed, he hadn’t the foggiest idea what was in the world beyond.  He figured it would be safe to assume he’d never know either; death didn’t seem to be lining up to make his acquaintance.

“You actually came.”

Such a cool and considered tone. Kenny’s lips curled up, he had _missed_ his old friends.

“Of course, Kyle, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m going to kill you.”

It was so simple and stupid. Kenny could laugh. What an adorable child Kyle had grown into. Kenny flourished a hand towards the sky, a simple motion of dismissal.

“Sure.”

\--

There are quite a few ways for reality to morph in on itself. One of which is for realities to collide.

An exchange has to happen.

\--

Perhaps anger wasn’t the best course of action with consideration to the circumstances.

Kyle couldn’t help it though. He was so nervous and then the janitor walked in carelessly and waved and there were these butterflies in his stomach assaulting his digestive system and he just _knew_ this was all a good idea.

He was so happy he’d taken the chance. Hot jan—Kenny, Kenny seemed really sweet and everything was going to work out for once and then he could rub it into Wendy’s face.

Then he could tell Stan to stop being a wuss.

And—

He had a list of things he wanted to do. Hopes and feelings that he had piled on top of the shoulders of a complete stranger.

It would be perfect.

And then two men in ski masks entered the establishment waving around weapons and he’d done the foolish thing and gotten mad.

He shouldn’t have gotten mad but one of the goons was pressing a knife against Kenny’s throat.

Kenny looked so oddly calm.

And Kenny was how things were going to get better. He’d catch up on grading and finally spend more time with his friends than his coworkers.

He’d get everything together that was slowly crushing him under the weight of his self-imposed policy of excellence.

It was dumb.

“Let go of him!”

It was just a dumb, dumb moment in time where Kyle acted before thinking.

The world flicked a moment. He saw a different room that was just the same. A different blond man that was just the same.

A different knife.

And somewhere in the struggle for the weapon something was in his hands that he couldn’t recall ever possessing.

But the sharp object was sticking out of the hot janitors chest and Kenny McCormick was giving him a ‘well what can you do?’ look and this was so incredibly wrong.

Everything in the scene was wrong.

The world flickered.

\--

“That—“ Kenny choked blood, body chilled by the sensation.

The knife Broflovski had brandished, babbling something pointless about Eldritch creatures, was imbedded in his chest.

“ _How_?”

He couldn’t breathe past the pain.

Oh, the _pain_. He’d never felt, not like this, not like this. His blood was leaking and his vision blurred with images of a world with concerned green eyes.

Kyle was smiling.

“Told you I could do it. Don’t fucking doubt me. Ever.”

Kenny choked again, blood pooling below him as he staggered, “Noted.”

And it all went black while the world oddly echoed his own name.

It was almost like he could hear Kyle asking for him to hold on. In the same voice that was asking him to die.

Death was fucking wild.

\--

There’s a twisted little pet shop next to the Wallmart. Its owner has severe substance abuse issues, from alcohol to more difficult substances. It’s small and creepy and the employees are underpaid.

And there’s a backdoor that no one is allowed to enter. It’s hard to say what could be on the other side, but strange sounds can be heard emanating from it.

The employees all wrongly assumed it was where the owner spent his time coming down from wherever his current high had him.

It was unusual but not unstable.

Not until Kenny McCormick started working there.

The opposite ends of magnets were forced together in a sense.

And the tear in reality expanded under the pressure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spooky fish, anyone? :D
> 
> im so sorry  
> (im not actually sorry)


	28. Chapter 28

The first thing that brought his attention back to consciousness was definitely the pain. It was somewhere between unyielding and excruciating. It certainly felt as though it should be more fatal than it truly was.

He was, of course, more than familiar with the feel of death fraying at his senses and the familiar hunched figure in black was nowhere in his mind’s eye. He was, despite the cries of protest from his pain receipting neurons, going to live.

Even more strangely he could feel his body mending at a rate that troubled him.

The second thing that narrowed his focus into the land of the living was the sound of Professor Broflovski's upset voice. No--not upset--angry.

Why was Kyle angry?

The third and final thing he relied upon in coming back from the realms of dreams was opening his eyes.

The sight that awaited him was not the remotely what he'd expected.

Not the bustling establishment he'd been stabbed in, not the mellow tones of a medical vehicle or building.

It had all the hallmarks of 'abandoned' and 'sketchy', it looked like the sort of place he would chase town crooks in his nightly endeavors. It was echoing off its hinges with the sound of Kyle's increasingly angry voice.

"--ould be closed! I stabbed the stupid bastard!" A pause, "Of  _ course _ I checked to make sure it actually killed him, what do you think I am, an idiot?!"

Right.

Pain, blood loss, and disorientation were all hampering factors in Kenny's ability to do high level critical thinking skills but he could still manage basic math.

Kyle stabbed someone. Kenny was stabbed.

" _ Fine _ , I'll fucking check again if you--"

The voice stopped and Kenny lifted his head barely to see the man pointedly clap shut a flip phone.

_ So _ many questions, first one being who in god’s name still owned  _ flip phone _ but also  _ since when did Kyle have a goatee _ ?

"You! How the fuck are you  _ still _ alive?!"

Kenny kinda wanted to know too.

Kyle brandished a knife and the thing had all sorts of symbols on it. Oh god, did it  _ glow _ ?

"This is  _ supposed _ to kill your invulnerable ass.  _ Stay. Dead _ ."

Kenny was bright enough to move before Kyle's monologue concluded. Invulnerable was a strange word, he'd never heard  _ that _ used in reference to himself. Immortal, sure, but invulnerable? He could only wish.

"Wait, uh, Prof? Hey, hey! I don't--" Kenny was made to realize that standing so suddenly with quite so hefty of an injury was ill-advised. He was experienced in the art of running for his life while his innards spilled out though, so he figured a minor stab through the fucking heart was negotiable, "--know what's up, but it's me? Kenny? Sexy janitor?"

Kyle swiped again meaningfully, "I know who you fucking are  _ McCormick _ , and despite what your enormously obnoxious ego has led you to believe, no one finds murder 'sexy'."

"Right." Kenny wasn't really sure where to go with that, "See, I don't think it is? Or, I feel like I'm missing a step in this conversation. Cou--could we maybe," dodge, "Pause in the murder attempts in order to fill some blanks?"

"I'll stop when you're dead, asshole!"

Right. Kenny did yet more mental math and determined that perhaps Kyle wasn't in a place to listen right now. Maybe he'd change his mind after some time to cool-down. With Kenny himself far away, preferably.

Sure, he could just accept his death and come back  _ without _ a hole in his chest, but something about the glowing dagger seemed to promise a lot more than just a quick stop in hell.

Also the goatee was really bugging him somehow. Sure, he'd been distracted with the whole vigilante thing lately but he didn't think he was so far out of it that he'd miss an obvious facial feature on the guy he was going on a date with.

So, Kenny did what Kenny had trained to do. He felt for his familiar muscles, urging them to find strength despite the lack of blood. He'd have to take down Broflovski without hurting the guy.

And while avoiding the knife.

No biggie, he'd done more on his caped escapades.

Trouble was that his body felt strangely uncoordinated. It almost didn't even feel like his own body. He dodged down and felt the burn in his thighs like he'd never done a squat before. He twisted his hand around to disarm and had to consciously tell his wrist what to do instead of relying on the muscle-memory, he pinned the other man and he didn't quite feel the full weight of his muscle baring down.

He didn't like the mental math that this particular problem was jostling up in him.

"Stay down! I don't want to hurt you!"

Kyle scoffed, "Yeah, sure, pull the other one." calculating green eyes were looking for the most effective way to close the distance between himself and the fallen knife. Kenny held the man’s wrists somewhat urgently and--

Huh.

There should be a burn scar on the side of his wrist. He'd been somewhere in the range of eight or nine and attempting to cook for Karen and Kevin when the pan had decided to sizzle his flesh instead. It was one of his few scars due to the fact that it hadn't ended in his death. Kenny had always quite liked it.

It wasn't there.

The math machine in his brain chimed and he groaned.

"Hey, uh, Kyle?"

"WHAT?!" Wow, when this guy snapped, he snapped.

"Mind doing me a favor and telling me about myself?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed into slits and he didn't quite anticipate the sudden push upward in time to keep Kyle pinned. Although he was able to put some distance between them while holding the somewhat terrifying knife behind his back.

"Of all the--you're a sick narcissist, you know that? Did you pull this shit when you killed Bradley?"

Yeah, this was spelling out to be a bad day, Kenny decided.

"Or Tweek?"

Goddamnit.

"Or  _ my brother, you sick fuck _ ?!"

Well. At least he knew that Kyle Broflovski had a good reason for wanting him dead as a doorknob?

"I'll tell you about yourself." Kyle was bearing in, no fear and only fire, "You're a narcissistic, creepy, invulnerable murdering bastard that uses money to keep the police complacent with your crimes. You're the bottom of the barrel, worm sucking sicko that I'm going to fucking  _ kill _ ."

"Yeah, okay, but--counterpoint--I am not who you think I am."

Kyle's rage filled scream was probably one of the scariest things he'd ever heard in his life. That's precisely why he took the opportunity to run the fuck out of the building and attempt to barricade the door behind him, Kyle's banging echoing in his thoughts.

Okay. Okay. He could do this. First things first, find cover and wait out hurricane Broflovski. Hopefully without leaving a trail of blood leading to his spot. Or bleeding out.

Fuck. Why did life suck so much?

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the return of short chapters XD


	29. Chapter 29

“Proctoring exams is actual hell. If there’s a hell dedicated just to teachers, I swear to god it’s probably proctoring an endless stream of tests. And you can’t space out, no, heaven forbid you ever dare do that. You have to continuously pace the damn room.” 

Who the hell was speaking? The voice was familiar but the timbre of it wasn’t.

“And you can’t just grade or lesson plan either. You have to keep your eyes on them. It’s hell. Actual hell.”

There was a small feminine giggle that he almost recognized and he fought with his senses.

Why did he feel so foggy?

Then the pain caught up. A wave of nauseating hurt that catapulted itself around his abdomen.

Oh, god. He’d never felt anything like this before. He felt sick. Was he going to die?

Had that stupid ginger bastard somehow succeeded?!

It shouldn’t be possible. He couldn’t be hurt. Nothing should be able to pierce his skin. He should be invulnerable.

The agony in his side told a different story and he groaned.

“Oh shit, he’s waking up!”

That was Karen’s voice. He realized with a start.

“Kenny? Kenny, are you okay?”

Where the fuck  _ was _ he? He could hear the sounds of movement and people, machines and regulations. A hospital?

Why would he be in a hospital?

He should open his eyes.

He didn’t want to open his eyes.

“Kenny?” It was the ranting voice from earlier, “I am  _ so _ sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to--”

Kenny tuned out the voice as realization dawned. That was Kyle fucking Broflovski’s voice.

His eyes shot open, he was going to make  _ close _ friends with Kyle. Peel back his skin and reveal the boy just waiting to come out.

Instead he saw his sister, a tad less skinny than he was used to seeing her, and Kyle looking at him with something that approached  _ concern _ .

No, it didn’t approach concern, it  _ was _ concern.

He squinted, “Why the fuck did you shave your goatee?”

Kyle looked entirely nonplussed, “I’ve never had a goatee?” He reached forward, resting a hand on Kenny’s forehead, “Are you feeling alright?”

Something was wrong.

Kenny jerked away, regretting the movement instantly as pain hissed through his side. Pain, pain, he’d never felt pain. Not like this. Not with such persistence. Continuous and cloying.

“Holyshit, get the nurse!” one if the two dimwits called. It was hard to tell through the pain.

Who’d spoken? He growled.

He should kill them both--

That was so blunt. That wasn’t his style. What was happening?

His sister spoke, voice uncharacteristically soft and close, “Kenny?”

Where was her resentment? He’d worked so hard to earn the snarl of disapproval that overtook her normally well pieced together persona of disdain.

She wasn’t sneering or mocking his pain.

He curled his fingers around his thoughts, tapping out a tune that satisfied his heart into a state of calm. He could hear voices, nurses and doctors. Someone was examining him.

He smiled, letting the thoughts dance across his scattered senses. He could snap the closest neck and then employ the shock it brought to do something dreadful. Perhaps earn back that timbre of fear that should be coating Karen’s every word.

The homicidal rage in Kyle’s.

More information could earn him a better stage though and he  _ was _ a performer after all. The smile crept from his cheeks into his bloodstream, an elated sensation at the grander stage to come. Yes, he’d wait until he’d gathered a sufficient amount of information and then in one fell swoop, dance over the bodies.

Pain scattered the happy thoughts and he snarled at the doctor that had prodded his side. He received an apology but could barely restrain from destroying his own plans just to kill the woman here and now.

He needed to focus away from the agony. He wasn’t equipped for it. It was too much.

The muffled conversation to the side bled into his earshot but he only caught small details.

“--Kenny--accident--sorry--”

He smiled, serene and peaceful, whatever was in the IV was starting to numb his senses and he was left with his daydreams.

Slowly, delicately, clawing out Kyle’s throat. Peeling away one layer of flesh at a time in order to fully view the function of his body before ripping it away from his spine.

Dancing the blunt edge of a knife against the doctors fingers, twisting at just the right moment to elicit a gasp of horror before taking the end of a finger. Twirling the knife over line of veins leading up before taking just a bit more of the finger. Over the course of hours, small slices of fingers forced down a sobbing mouth, then bringing the kni--

“Are you okay now, Kenny?”

Karen was close and Kyle was far. He blinked. How long had he spaced out?

Kyle shifted, “I understand why you might be scared of me, I did accidentally stab you. God--worst first date ever, right?”

Kenny’s mind did loops to catch up.

“I’m not scared of you.”

It was the only thing he was sure of.

He wasn’t  _ scared _ of Broflovski. Just enjoying the prolonged torture before he eventually took the others life. He was apathetic towards Kyle at most.

“Oh.” Kyle seemed to hear the truth in his words and smiled, “That’s good.”

Karen patted his arm and he wondered about breaking it again. Show her that this sort of insolence wouldn’t be tolerated--

His mind stuttered.

“We were on a date?”

Kyle blinked, a look of hurt on his features, “I--I thought we were. If it’s a misunderstanding then that’s cool, there’s no pressure, I just--”

Despite the amount of medication clogging his critical thought, aspects of the oddities caught up with him.

“Where were we?”

Now two pairs of eyes were staring with concern. He persisted, gazing patiently at the strangely docile man.

“Uh--a cafe? The one on campus?”

“Hm…”

So, they weren’t in an abandoned warehouse.

And they were on a date.

Kyle had no goatee. Karen had no fear.

The doctors were patient and kind instead of rough and murderous.

Kenny’s lips curled upwards.

And they were on a  _ date _ .

Oh.

This was going to be fun.

“You’ll have to take me on one with less stabbing next time,” he purred, eyes alight with mischief and joy.

He could create  _ such  _ a grand stage for his next performance.


End file.
